


Over The Hills And Far Away

by Feuermalerin



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: F/M, Misunderstandings, Post-Breath of the Wild, Post-Calamity Ganon, Romance, Slow Romance, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-18 13:53:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29610405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feuermalerin/pseuds/Feuermalerin
Summary: Years have passed since Ganon was defeated. On the hills the Silent Princess blooms again and Zelda should be happy. But her heart doesn't seem to understand. // a few years after BotW // Zelda and Link ~ because it is time.
Relationships: Link/Zelda (Legend of Zelda)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 31





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome ~ I hope you'll enjoy this little story of mine. I've read some great Zelda fanfiction, even some that shed a little light on the time after the game's official ending, but I couldn't stop thinking about a story in an even more distant future. So I started to write it. Not in English, because that's not my native language. A very good translation program and a lot of work made it possible to now post the first chapter in English, for those of you who ponder about an older Link and Zelda as well.  
> Please forgive me any mistakes, especially punctuation errors, I suck at those in my own language as well :)  
> Anyway, let's get started. Thank you for joining in.

**A** s a little girl, Zelda had often imagined her future. When and how the sacred sealing power would awaken in her.

The sacred power that everyone said was dormant in her, because the goddess Hylia had given it to another Zelda a long time ago. Another Zelda...

A girl that she had not been, but then again...she was.

When Zelda was very young, all this had confused her very much. But she had thought about it, again and again. She had imagined being the princess of a kingdom where peace and prosperity reigned. High priestess of her people. And finally: queen.

Then, the future had developed into something fearful and shaped into years of fight and suffering.

Anyway, she had never, neither in the hopeful nor the fearful scenarios she had imagined, seen herself moving heavy objects around a dusty old floor, groaning like an old man going up the stairs.

How ironic, Zelda thought, that her life seemed to revolve around just that in the recent weeks.

Those damn chests.

The breath it would take to loudly curse the heavy chest she was trying to move had run out some time ago. Probably because she moaned loudly every time she managed to tug at the heavy iron handle. Not much air left to form curse words.

Oh Goddess!

Groaning, she pulled on the circular handle that someone with more strength - or with more arms - would surely have used to lift the object. She, a woman with more head than muscle strength, had no choice but to pull and tug to get the darn thing to move at least a few inches across the stone floor. The satisfying scraping sound was accompanied only by her loud breathing. And even louder moaning.

Sweat was already collecting under her shirt and her fingers felt as if they had rusted around the wrought iron handle.

But she had almost made it. Just a little bit more.

Just a little more ... a brutal jolt ran through Zelda as her movement was suddenly stopped. The heavy box was ripped from her fingers, the weight far too heavy to hold on. She staggered, frozen in the powerful tugging movement with which she had tried to get the chest to budge.

At the same moment, Zelda realized the reason for the sudden, violent stop: someone's leg rested on top of the chest. A leg that belonged to a person.

Startled, her whole body jerked and she winced so violently that she hurt herself in the process.

Everything happened so fast, that time and space momentarily lost their points of reference. Everything seemed to consist only of her beating heart and frantic movements. She flailed her arms, desperately trying not to loose her balance. And failed.

Before she could fall, however, she was grabbed by the sleeve and pulled back.

She didn't yet have enough breath to verbally express her terror or the anger that soon followed, but she began to fight the grip instinctively.

"Link," she gasped as she realized who had kicked the chest from her fingers. "You-" Tragically, when Link had scared her half to death, Zelda had gasped quite violently, air that somehow was still stuck in her throat.

She tried to suppress the cough that was building in her lungs, but that made it worse. One spasm after another jolted her body as she convulsively tried to breathe through the fit.

It wasn't until Link put his hand between her shoulder blades and applied gentle pressure that Zelda was able to calm down. She would have preferred him simply patting her on the back. That would have been less intimate.

As her heartbeat calmed a bit, Zelda had time to process the situation for the first time. Immediately she became self-conscious.

What a sight she must have made. With her butt stretched in the air, groaning and sweating like a Goron. That was how Link had found her, making a spectacle of herself, as always.

Imagine, that once upon a time, she had thought herself majestic.

Ridiculous.

If Zelda’s head hadn't already been a bright red because of the violent coughing fit, shame, flowing through her like a hot river, would have done just that.

Embarrassed and annoyed, she took a step back.

Link couldn't retrieve his arm as quickly as she backed off. His hand therefore gently brushed along her shoulder as she turned away. The touch caused the fine hairs on the skin of her neck to rise. Zelda shivered. Then a wave of resentment rolled through her.

At the fact that he had seen her in such an unflattering situation - and not for the first time.

About the fact that he had interrupted her so rudely - what an impertinence.

And about the fact that she found it difficult to look at him. In the flickering twilight of the candelabras and the nearby charcoal pan - the only source of heat in the bare, cold library - Link's hair shimmered like antique bronze. Candlelight flattered everyone, but looking at Link almost hurt, the way the shadows cascaded around his face, bathing it in liquid gold.

Zelda felt her nostrils flare. She struggled for a brief moment with controlling her facial expressions and then gave up. Accusingly, she clutched her chest as she forced herself to look Link in the eye.

The shock still sat in her bones and his quietly amused look did nothing to calm her temper.

"Link," she tried again, this time managing to summon a little dignity.

"What are you doing!!!" It was more of a scolding than a question.

But the bullheaded hero of Hyrule had never been impressed by her tone. He regarded her impassively, and in that quiet, waiting way that always made her feel like a bratty little girl.

"The same thing," Link began, and the slightly rough quality of his voice made Zelda's ears prickle, "I was about to ask you, _Princess_."

He had always liked to use her title with subtle adjustments of meaning. Today it was a reminder of her rank.

She suspected he hadn't enjoyed the box-pulling. And that was why he had stood on the chest and scared her senseless.

Well. Despite his ideas for chests and whether or not princesses were allowed to pull them, Zelda was on a mission. And she had been for days.

She was looking for records of the last treasurer. Records that hopefully, hopefully still existed and were in readable condition.

"What should I have done, Sir Link?" she asked sweetly.

She did not use his honorific title any more neutrally than he had.

"My ever-so-helpful and loyal appointed knight was not here to help me."

Zelda tilted her head and looked challengingly at said personal knight. Again, it was not easy for her. Looking at him was a little like looking directly into the sun. It dazzled and hurt. At least a little bit.

"Any idea where he's been hanging out?"

Yeah, it was mean. And not fair.

One of the many tasks Link had taken on after Ganon was sealed, was to build and oversee the new guard, and thus develop a fighting force. Even if it was still very small.

In addition, he was always on hand to help with the work around the castle.

The latter in particular had led to his shoulders and arms becoming so strong in recent years that his stature was less like that of a wiry Shiekah warrior and more like one of a woodcutter or stonemason.

You didn't fight Ganon single-handedly and heave stone after stone in a ruined castle without building some serious muscle.

Link had always been in excellent shape. Strong and fast and efficient in his movements, almost elegant. But this Link was a whole different league altogether. In addition, he had grown a few inches - quite normal for Hylian men, whose physical maturity took them a bit longer than the females.

So Link had neither time nor was it necessary for him to stay constantly at her side, as he had done a hundred years ago. Except from falling stones, Zelda faced no danger in the castle, and the library was free of those.

The roof was makeshift but neatly repaired and free of debris and the remnants of a hundred years of monster rule.

Moreover, the hall-like room was almost empty except for the old wooden shelves, which were in surprisingly good condition. Many of the books that had so colourfully contributed to the educational, wondrous atmosphere of this place with their magnificent bindings, had been removed from storage to protect them from further deterioration. Some of them were with private scribes who had willingly taken them in. Either for copying or restoration. A work that would drag on for many decades.

Without the books and scrolls, the library looked bare and sad. But at least it was no longer raining in.

As much as it pained Zelda, there were other priorities. The top one was the people of Hyrule. Their care and protection.

After that came a reasonably intact infrastructure. Almost as important was a sense of security and prosperity. A positive spirit. And for none of that a huge library was needed.

Link interrupted her thoughts by retrieving a plate from somehow behind him.

A plate on which a gigantic piece of cake throned enticingly.

Instantly, Zelda's subtle irritation evaporated and was replaced by deep gratitude. Her stomach performed an enthusiastic acrobatic movement, which it punctuated with a loud grumble. Briefly, her knees went weak.

At the same time, a longing sigh escaped Zelda.

"He's been hanging around the kitchen," Link replied. "And there, at the risk of his life I have to say, he stole a piece of cake for the princess who skipped her evening meal." He met her gaze, an amused expression on his face. "Now will you be a tiny bit more sensible and sit down for a minute?"

She was vulnerable to blackmail. It wasn't a good quality for a future queen, but it was a fact of life.

"Maybe very briefly..." Zelda pursed her mouth. She really wanted that cake.

With a nod of his head, Link motioned her to follow him to the table, where he unceremoniously pushed aside the mess of her notes and moved a huge slice of bread, topped with thick slices of cheese, to the centre. Then he picked up an apple from somewhere.

Again Zelda sighed. She had probably noticed her hunger, but hadn't found time to do anything about it.

"Did I ever tell you that you were my favourite appointed knight?

He snorted softly and gave her a sardonic look from under heavy lids. For Link, this was downright expressive.

"Your appreciation honours me." From his tone, the absolute opposite was true. But Zelda ignored him and reached for the bread while he pulled up a chair of his own and spun it around with a casual motion. He sat down with his legs wide apart, his forearms resting loosely on the backrest, which now faced the edge of the table.

"Don't choke," he said helpfully, and the corners of his mouth twitched in a hint of a smile as Zelda gave him a dirty look. If she didn't chew, she probably would have stuck out her tongue.

But she was quick to forgive him, being far too busy melting down into a small puddle of hungry pleasure.

She let out a culinary-inspired hum of delight that she was just a tiny bit ashamed of.

Simple fare had always tasted better to her than fancy food. Zelda would not shed a single tear for the feasts and banquets of former court life.

Link watched without pulling a face as she devoured the bread and apple in record time and then pulled the plate of cake closer to her.

"When was the last time you ate something?" he finally asked her, his tone no longer casual.

Zelda shrugged, at which point his silence became deafening. His look made his thoughts obvious. At least to her. For Link, it would be easier to forget breathing than to skip a meal. It was nice that even a hundred years of sleep and memory loss couldn't change some things.

"Why didn't you ask Dorian to help you?" he asked after some time of amicable - and from Zelda's side, gluttonous - silence.

She looked up from her fruitcake. She suspected Link was talking about her pulling a heavy chest across the library floor.

"Because I didn't know he was there."

Dorian had followed Link from Kakariko even before the plan to build a new guard had been formed. He was not officially part of the Guard, but helped train the new recruits. He was capable and his loyalty to Link knew no bounds. Dorian had made himself irreplaceable. Zelda liked him as much as his adorable daughters, even though they still spent a lot of time in Kakariko.

"Where is he?"

Link frowned and regarded her with an unusually stern look.

Unaffected, Zelda took another bite of her cake. The bottom was wonderfully soft and thickly sliced, so the heat of the oven had not yet completely escaped.

It was absolute heaven.

"In bed," Link finally said, after Zelda had resigned herself to the fact that he would not answer. It happened often enough, that he just kept quiet, driving her up the wall.

"Just like everyone else." His right eyebrow twitched briefly. " _Almost_ everyone."

"If you want to go to sleep, go to sleep." Even to her own ears, her voice sounded defensive. Again she bit and chewed, her brow perceptibly furrowed.

These underlying admonishments were getting her nowhere. She had a country to rebuild. Which she had brought into this state of decay with her own failings.

What were a few hours of sleep?

"That's not what I meant," Link said quietly. With anyone else, it would have sounded ironic. But Link almost always spoke that way. Serene. Almost emotionless. So that sometimes you didn't even notice the individual little barbs with which he punctuated his words. The fine humour of which he had hardly shown anything a hundred years ago, but that emerged more often now, as if he could no longer hold back this side of himself. Or as if he no longer wanted to.

Zelda vividly remembered the first deeper conversations she had almost had to force him into. Back then, when she still feared he would despise her and he was the stoic knight who silently followed her day by day. Whom she treated terribly and yet who had never thought ill of her or treated her with anything but sincerity and loyalty.

She could still see in her mind's eye the look of confusion that had slowly appeared on his otherwise expressionless face as she just kept pestering him with questions. His understanding when it dawned on him that she was really interested in the answers.

He had talked to her before that, too. But she hadn't wanted to hear any of it. The honorific salutations, the address by title, the respectful distance, all that had unsettled Zelda and had made her angry.

Until she had understood him. Until she had seen that Link, behind the persona of the untouchable hero, was fighting his own battles, both with himself and the expectations that were placed on him.

Until she had burned her own judgments and prepared the ground for the special friendship that had grown between them.

The hero and the princess.

Even if the hero's gaze still transfigured from time to time, when old memories popped into his head out of nowhere or his jaw tightened because the lack of knowledge about the past frustrated him.

Even though the princess could now only sporadically feel her sacred powers and often enough lay awake at night, because her thoughts revolved around the future of her shattered kingdom.

At least there was no doubt about it: they were who they were. And Hyrule still needed them.

Not for the first time, Zelda felt strong pity for the poor souls, who were born into this world and had to make do with her as a princess. There really were easier fates.

"Are you going to tell me?" Link's quiet question snapped the thread that had spun Zelda's thoughts into a web. She realized that she had just been sitting there staring at nothing for some time. There were only a few crumbs left on the plate in front of her. She had devoured her cake as if in a trance, not noticing anything.

A little stunned, she met Link's gaze. His blue eyes shone as contrastingly as ever under thick, dark lashes, revealing next to nothing about what he was thinking.

"Say what?" The confusion in her voice was genuine. She didn't know what he meant.

Link let a heavy pause pass, a rhetorical device he used frequently, and not just when he was talking to her.

The hero of Hyrule was a master of the active silence.

"Whatever it is, that keeps you awake at night."

*** **** ****

_And that makes you as irritable as a startled mountain goat._

Even though the comparison was apt, Link didn't say it out loud. It would only have hurt Zelda. Sometimes she took things too literally.

Link watched in anticipation as she tugged anxiously at her earlobe. An innocent, endearing gesture that made something in his chest tighten.

She could seem so aloof. So serious. Even haughty from time to time.

But in that moment, he could clearly see the vulnerability woven firmly into her being. The result of years of criticism, isolation and self-doubt. Even a hundred years of permanent battle against and victory _over_ a demon king had not been enough to fully heal those old wounds.

It had taken Link a while to make sense of this complex princess. To bring together the different sides of her character into one picture. In his mind, the different impressions and scraps of memory waged war against each other often enough.

But Zelda ... Zelda was the only thing in his crazy life that made sense.

The instinct to protect her had driven him when she had been only a voice. The voice and the light that had brought him out of the darkness. Back into the world. Back into life.

She herself was pure life, colourful and contrasting. Regal and playful. Serious and girlish. Sacrificial and emotional. Defiant. Alone. Strong. So endlessly strong.

She had fascinated him since the first images had appeared in his mind, the first reminders of a life he was supposed to have lived, but knew nothing about.

But the shock of seeing her with his own eyes, on the field in the middle of Hyrule, the vapours of Ganon's malice not yet completely gone from the air, he still hadn't quite gotten over.

Sometimes he caught himself just staring at her. Absorbing the sight of her and holding on to it. As if a part of him was afraid of losing sight of her again.

But Link tried not to think about it too much.

He simply accepted. Accepted the bonds of fate that chained them together. Bonds that not even the gruelling forces of time could harm.

These ties were telling him, that something was no right.

Only someone who looked very closely would notice, but Link always looked very closely and to him it was abundantly clear that Zelda worried.

Worry gnawed at her and it almost drove him crazy that he didn't know why. She had even lost weight.

But he had learned that he could not pushed Zelda into anything. Nothing made her more stubborn and defiant. Patience had always gotten him farer and so he spent a lot of time just waiting. Waiting for the right moment.

Maybe it had come now. Maybe it hadn't. But Link couldn't hold back the words any longer.

"Tell me what you need, Zelda." Only years of drill he only partially remembered, but which had become so much flesh and blood that he didn't even need the memory, prevented him from reaching out and touching her. He would not go down that path.

It only gave him silly ideas.

"What can I do?" It wasn't a question. It was a plea. Zelda must have sensed the brittle quality in his voice, because she looked at him questioningly.

Only briefly did Link allow himself the feeling of discomfort that set his ears on fire. Then he inwardly pull up his shields. It didn't matter what she thought. It was his job to protect her from harm. In every possible way. That included the occasional plea.

Zelda avoided his gaze, but he saw and felt her fading resistance.

A barely perceptible hardness disappeared from her eyes, like an evil spirit draining away, letting the real Zelda come to light. Tired. Soft. Filled to the brim with feelings she didn't know how to handle.

How much Link wanted to take her in his arms. To pull her close and offer his shoulder to share the burden.

But she would never let that happen.

Closeness and touch were something that had to come from her, unless she was in physical danger.

Those were the unspoken rules. And Link abided by them. It was better that way.

A heavy sigh lifted Zelda's chest and she began chewing on her lower lip. A sign that she was searching for words.

Link wished she would just confide in him. This invisible cage of isolation she had built around herself was worse than the loneliness she had found herself in a hundred years ago. Back when she had loathed Link.

He knew it was his own fault. It only made it harder to bear.

His first words after sealing away the demon had laid the foundation for this cage. The answer he had given her, five years ago, when Ganon had been defeated and Hyrule had been freed from devastation.

_Do you remember? Do you know who I am?_

After a silence far too long, during which her glowing smile had grown duller and duller, sustained only by bravery and kindness, he had spoken the truth. A truth he wished he had modified a little, almost every day since.

_Memories are incomplete. Princess, we should seek shelter from the rain._

Even though the rapidly building storm front, with which Hyrule wanted to wash itself clean of the evil that had been Ganon, had certainly posed a serious threat, he just had been overwhelmed. And that had made him answer so tightly.

Sometimes he could justify it to himself. The rush of battle fresh in his veins, the triumph of victory, and then Zelda.

_Zelda._

Everything had poured in. Memories, questions, words, images, tangling with the dreams that haunted him from the moment he had retrieved the sacred sword.

The golden sight of her, the deep feeling of recognition and ... _everything._

Zelda.

He hadn't been able to process. Especially since the instinct to protect her, so contrasted with the splendour of her sacred powers he had just been blessed to witness, had nearly knocked him over. He had wanted to wrap her in all his special armour at the once and even then, he would have been afraid to harm a hair on her head. It was disturbing and a lot to absorb. And at the same time, he hadn't known whether to kiss her hand, hug her, or get down on one knee in front of her.

He had been petrified.

Logically, it was a perfectly human reaction to sensory overload. But that didn't make it any better.

His reaction had hurt Zelda to a depth that apparently could not be healed. No matter how he acted, she remained distant.

They were friends. They were confidants. They were princess and hero of Hyrule, welded together in a way that was unparalleled. But there was a line drawn between them that was not crossed. Never.

Link was grateful for this line. And at times, he wanted to drop a bomb on it.

"You already do so much," Zelda finally said gently, her gaze fixed somewhere in the shadows of the abandoned library. "And I thank you for it too rarely."

Link suppressed the impulse to respond with irony.

That would only make her ramparts go up again.

"Zelda-" He leaned forward, so that she needed to look at him. Her eyes glittered in the twilight of the charcoal pans and candlesticks, small green waters full of emotion, formed like the delicate pits of an apricot.

"Talk to me. Please."

The corners of her mouth trembled and a swallow moved the soft skin of her throat. Link's gaze flickered briefly to that vulnerable spot, the life that pulsed there so precious to him.

With the fingernail of her index finger, she scratched an invisible pattern into the wood of the table, the pressure too weak to do any harm, the movement completely unconscious.

"I don't know where to begin," she finally confessed in a hushed voice, raw with suppressed emotion.

Relief flowed hotly through Link and involuntarily he straightened up a little.

"Why are these chests so important?" he asked briskly, so she didn't have enough time to think.

"I'm looking for records of the old Treasurer," she said, pulling her hand away.

"He had some interesting ideas about reforming the tax system," she continued, without Link needing to inquire further. "I was often present when the king consulted with his ministers, and the idea of changing the form of tax levies came up a few times."

Link knew of King Bosphoramus preparing his daughter for her eventual office as regent of the realm, in addition to her duties as high priestess and princess of Hyrule.

Zelda had shown a lot of understanding in these matters during the last years. She knew how to direct a state, which helped decisively in the rebuilding of the empire. Her ability to combine her interest and knowledge of ancient technologies with the many new tasks she had to deal with as princess of a traumatized kingdom seemed almost acrobatic.

Using Vah Medoh to transport stones from the recommissioned quarries in the Gerudo Mountains to Hyrule Castle was just one of these innovative ideas.

So the fact that it was taxes that were depriving this inventive, original princess of sleep at night, surprised him.

"Taxes?" asked Link a little perplexed. Zelda shot him an understanding glance. "I know what you're thinking," she said before he could respond.

"The peoples of Hyrule have suffered tremendously. We are so few and have so little. And then they are supposed to pay taxes? For what, most of all? I can hardly offer them protection. It was enough work to convince them that ancient technologies no longer pose a threat. Protecting them is something they'll probably never trust me with again."

She shook her head slightly. Link opened his mouth to interject, to tell her, that she misunderstood him, but now that she had started, there was no stopping her flow of words.

"But no matter how I spin it, we need a tax system." Her face took on a desperate expression.

"I can't force anyone to work on the construction sites or be part of the Guard. I have to be able to pay them."

She made an emphatic gesture with her hand.

"And I can no longer do that in rupees, as there is too little in the treasury to do so. Even if I accept your offer and factor in the fortune in collected gems you've somehow managed to amass," she gave him a quick indulgent glance, "which I won't, it's not enough." She took a deep breath and leaned back slightly.

"I cannot ask my people to work away from their families without pay. How will the economy get a boost and trade flourish anew?"

Again she nibbled her lower lip, biting at it with small white teeth. The sight distracted Link long enough that he again missed the moment to interrupt her.

"The treasurer had the idea of minting a coin for the sole purpose, that only in this currency can the tax be paid. This alone creates the value of the coin and-" She raised her right hand, "no one is forced to pay in natural produce."

Abruptly, the stream of words ended and her hand dropped back down to clutch the tabletop.

"That wasn't what I thought."

It was the first thing that came to his mind, and when Zelda blinked briefly in confusion, he forced himself to continue speaking.

"I didn't think your people would be unwilling to pay taxes."

She raised to object, but Link raised his hand defensively.

"Zelda, I don't think you know the gratitude all of Hyrule feels," he said calmly and emphatically, with enough gentleness that she couldn't resist the truth in his words.

"I do. I've been out there. Everyone knows the sacrifice you made. A hundred years you stopped Ganon. You're the reason they're alive. You alone. You!"

He lowered his head as she avoided his gaze, keeping her eyes locked with it.

"Zelda, why do you think so many have come here? Why are there houses in Hyrule City again? Why does a place to live exist here?"

Link didn't give her time to answer. "They are here because of you. It's like you said, just before we left for Vah Ruta the first time, when he stood still. The people of this realm are strong. They can build a Hyrule more beautiful than ever before."

As always when he quoted her, Zelda looked like she didn't know exactly whether to be flattered or annoyed.

"I still think so," she replied, "but I can't exploit them for it. They deserve a reward for the hard work that lies ahead."

Link nodded slowly. "It's a good idea."

Zelda blinked a little dumbfounded, which made him smile. "Of course it's a good idea, what did you think I was going to say?"

Her brow furrowed a few adorable wrinkles. "You said I misunderstood you."

"Because, as usual, you assumed the worst. I only wanted to express that I would not have found even a normal tax collection as tyrannical as you seem to."

Thoughtfully, she met his gaze.

"Zelda, as always, you found best compromise by following your instinct. So what's the problem? What else did that treasurer say?"

A shadow briefly flitted across her face, as it always did when Link let it slip that he was missing some memories, and briefly he was annoyed with himself for his rash choice of words.

But she fortunately didn't linger long on the guilt he knew overtook her in those moments. No matter how many times he assured her that his memory was not her responsibility, Zelda still blamed herself for it.

"He wrote a paper about possible mining areas for the source materials and minting methods. And about other details that are less important, but that I want to read up on."

Link nodded. "Do you need help going through the chests?"

She shook her head slightly. "I don't even know what exactly I'm looking for. I know the treasurer was pedantically organized. And I've found some of his accounting records of the state budget, and some old listings of the treasury estates. But these are all official records."

Warmth rose in Link as he noticed the tension in Zelda's shoulders ease. It did her good to talk about what had been troubling her these past few days.

At least this once he had taken the right approach.

"Where was his chamber?"

Surprised by the change of subject, she looked at him. "He occupied a few rooms in the north wing with his family. That area is completely buried." Her gaze turned suspicious. "Why?"

"Perhaps he kept his more cerebral records in another place. In a more private place."

She shook her head. "He submitted it as an official draft."

"A pedant like him? I'm sure he made a copy."

"You want to look for it." She knew him well. Link just shrugged. "It's worth a shot."

"Link... you don't have to do that."

Yes, he did, he had to. He really had to. But he didn't tell her that.

"You should go to bed, Zelda. Tomorrow is another day."

Sighing, she looked behind her toward the abandoned chest.

"Go to bed," Link repeated. "Please."

She gave him a look of severe distress that made him smile. Then she rose hesitantly, the movement full of resistance matched by fatigue.

"Do you want me to carry you?" The teasing question had its desired effect.

She looked at him with indignation, but looked a bit more energized. Sometimes she was easily directed. And then again she seemed to him the greatest mystery that existed in this world.

With an innocent expression, he raised his hands as he stood up. "It was only a question in my duty as your appointed knight."

There was no sharpness in the way she glared at him with feigned contempt.

"You are fortunate that the prison was destroyed, Sir Link. Impertinence was not well tolerated by the royal family of Hyrule."

Link lit a torch at one of the braziers and followed Zelda into the shadows of the corridor that led out of the library toward her chambers.

Since work had begun on Hyrule Castle, Zelda's old tower had been repaired first. She had opposed it, had attributed higher importance to other rooms, but no one had wanted to hear about it. The princess of the realm sleeping in a wooden hut in the rebuilding settlement where Hyrule City had stood?

That was unthinkable.

At some point, Zelda had stopped resisting and had finally moved into her old chambers.

"There's always the dungeon," Link helped on. He heard Zelda snort beside him.

"The dungeon you turned into guard quarters? That would certainly be a great punishment."

The corners of Link's mouth twitched as they turned down another hallway.

"If it helps, I don't think a cell exists that I couldn't get out of." It was meant to sound a little arrogant, but it was true nonetheless.

"It doesn't, thank you," Zelda said coolly. Then she giggled. Link gave her an affectionate look, one he was grateful no one was watching.

They spent much of the walk in silence, which didn't bother him. Zelda briefly asked him about his plans to make a new recruiting trip across the country. But Link changed the subject as quickly as possible. He didn't like to talk about these trips. For several reasons. But on the surface, he didn't want her thinking about government business any more that night, even if he'd probably have to give her a strong sleeping potion to do it.

As always when he took her to her chambers, Link took a quick look around the room. Old instincts that couldn't be erased probably. And as always, Zelda watched him with an amused expression.

He lit a few candles in the dark room and then extinguished the torch.

"No more brooding, promise me." Of course, she didn't have to promise him anything. They both knew that. But Zelda allowed him this illusion of influence over her and nodded.

"I swear to Hylia."

She was probably too tired to consider the implications of such an oath. Link left it at that and wished her a good night.

As always, he felt a certain uneasiness when he left her alone to retire to his own room a few doors down. It had been a maid's chamber and accordingly small, and only with great persuasion had Zelda allowed him to move into it. They had argued about what was proper for the chosen and proven hero of Hyrule.

But there was no way around the fact that he needed to be near her. He had never revealed to Zelda how deeply rooted that need was. She suspected that he was being deliberately demanding, unnecessarily invoking his status as a her personal guard.

But it was not that. He needed it for his own salvation.

In the end, he had faced her with the decision that he would either sleep in the small chamber near hers or right outside her door. Finally, she had given in.

Inside the small room, Link quickly removed his clothes, then wiped himself down with a cloth. With his index finger, he applied a little salt to his teeth and briefly rinsed his mouth. Then he opened the shutters so that the first light of the day would wake him, and after dressing himself again in makeshift clothes, he settled down on the bed.

He had hardly thought about it before the decision was made. Like the hypocrite he was, he put on his boots and left the room again.

Zelda wasn't the only one who couldn't sleep. Wide awake and almost vibrating with energy, Link silently found his way through the corridors.

It was impossible for him to sleep when Zelda had a problem. He lived to protect her from any harm. He had sworn that on his knees. And even without the sketchy memories of that moment, he felt it in every fiber of his bones.

And he would not rest until he had at least tried to solve the problem.

~ mit Feuer gemalt


	2. Chapter 2

**"T** he first destruction wasn't even the worst," Bolson chirped. He stood beside Zelda on the passage to the throne room, the ancient sanctum of Hyrule Castle, and stared down into the gaping hole, Ganon had caused five years ago.

"What that beast did, when it fell out of its creepy cocoon, is the real disaster." He clicked his tongue and sighed melodically.

None of this was news to Zelda, as he'd probably told her for the three hundredth time.

In addition, nobody knew the state of the throne room better than her. She had been trapped here for a hundred years, witnessing Ganon's fall first-hand. She remembered everything about it, especially her devastation, when she hadn't been able to hold him any longer.

Briefly, she felt the impulse to defend herself. Felt as if the further destruction of the sanctuary was her fault as well.

But Bolson just liked to hear himself talk. There was no hidden attack behind his words.

Besides, it wasn't as if Zelda had a lot of contractors she could choose from.

She was lucky to have him at all, as his involvement was due solely to Link and his powers of persuasion.

And Bolson did a surprisingly good job, as he cared a lot about maintaining the integrity of the historic structures, which you wouldn't have guessed, given his other fast-track construction methods.

That was the reason why Zelda had learned early on to simply look interested when dealing with him, but to let her own thoughts wander. Because when Bolson had something really constructive to say, he got rid of his dandy attitude and became tough as nails.

Usually, his monologues didn't bother Zelda either. But today she couldn't fall back on her strategy of mentally shutting down.

As always, when she was in the old throne room, she had completely different problems. At the moment she was fighting a full-blown panic attack and no matter how vehemently she preached to herself that Ganon was sealed and would remain so for a long time. Even if she knew she was safe and would never be imprisoned here again, she found it difficult to breathe.

She could hear her own blood rushing in her ears, and the tightness in her chest only added to the feeling of confinement she always felt in this place.

It was no wonder, logically speaking. But still completely unacceptable.

"If everything stays on schedule, I see no reason to postpone the start of construction," Zelda finally cut Bolson off. He had just been talking about how difficult it would be to make the ground load-bearing again.

Zelda knew all that. They had spent what felt like eternities bent over huge technical drawings and discussed every little detail up to exhaustion.

Why Bolson needed this conversation, and then on the premises, was a mystery to her anyway. But she had not been able to change his mind. And now she was standing here. With sweat on her forehead and her hands clenched into fists.

Zelda saw Bolson give her a hurt look.

"I guess it's one of those days, huh?" His voice performed a musical bow that tightened the sharpness of his words. Zelda gritted her teeth to keep from snapping at him. The throne room had been prioritized over other works for a reason. Upon its completion, the first ceremony to be held here, celebrating progress in Hyrule's rebuilding, would be her own coronation.

She would be queen.

She.

Zelda.

A queen did not deign to take offens at vulgar degradations of her gender. Even if they were as disrespectful as Bolson's words just now.

A queen did not ennoble such vulgarities by getting angry about them.

"What is the purpose of my being here again?" she said as majestically as she was capable of in her current state.

Bolson crossed his arms in front of his chest and snootily turned his right hip forward.

"I thought the princess would like to take another good look at the prior state of this place before we start making history here tomorrow."

He looked challengingly at the fingernails of his left hand as Zelda processed what he had said.

She hadn’t misheard, had she?

She was standing here, only to get one last good look at the destruction?

Zelda breathed over the pressure in her chest, sealing her lips from the inside against the harsh words that welled up her throat.

"Thank you for that foresight," she said coolly, hoping she didn't sound sarcastic. "I have perceived the initial state. I trust that everything will happen according to plan." She turned away hastily.

With a muttered goodbye, Zelda hurried toward a side exit. Not a moment longer did she want to spend within the walls haunted by Ganon's ghost.

Relief liquefied Zelda's bones as she felt the fresh morning air on her face. A little wobbly on her feet and with soft knees, she hurried down the shallow staircase, past the fragments of what had once been a pavilion.

As fast as she could without running, she moved away from the former heart of the castle. She really had to get a handle on this. For a change, time was working for her. It would take a long while until it would be possible to enter the throne room again. Taking into account all the ornamental work that had to be done, it should leave Zelda with a bit of time to work on this problem of hers.

And time it would take. A lot.

Their number was simply so few. The tragedy was not only the many souls left behind. It also weighed heavily that so much knowledge had been lost. Craftsmen, artisans, scholars, soldiers. There was a shortage at all ends.

Above all, they were missing a queen who could enter her own throne room without hyperventilating.

Not thinking about where her legs were taking her, Zelda had walked towards her tower. There were many well-preserved walls and passageways here. Sometimes Zelda would sit down behind one of these walls and let her eyes wander over the vast plain. No one ever discovered her here. Intuitively, she had sought out this place to come to calm down without being seen.

Recognizing her surroundings, Zelda tried to control her breathing as Link had once shown her, half an eternity ago. Back when she had talked herself into such a frenzy of despair and panic that she had hiccuped and he had pushed her head between her knees.

Link. If he knew about this. He would never let her enter the throne room again.

His care was kind and well-intentioned. And extremely dutiful. But her conscience almost crushed her whenever he behaved in such a chivalrous manner. He still saw himself as her personal guard, even though everything had changed since he had sworn that oath. He probably didn't even remember it.

As always, when Zelda thought about it, her heart grew heavy. So much he didn't remember. In the beginning, after defeating Ganon, she had tried to help him fill in the gaps in his memory. She had subtly made sure that he was confronted with situations that would trigger the recollection. That it helped him visit places, hear voices, or even see an object was something Zelda herself had witnessed.

Sometimes she herself was the trigger for him remembering.

But she had quickly realized that her approach was less subtle than she thought. At least not for someone with Link's powers of observation. And the fact that he had followed her instructions without mentioning her intentions with a single word had given her the feeling that he was doing it to please her. He himself did not seem all that keen on remembering his life before the healing sleep. Zelda suspected that he was doing it more for her sake, which only made it worse. Him loosing these memories in the first plac was her fault. Had she been able to obtain and use the sealing powers sooner, he would never have been injured so badly that the Shrine of Resurrection became necessary.

Of course, it was no wonder that Zelda wanted his memory to be complete. Then she would be free of her guilt. And wasn't that selfish to the core?

Especially since sometimes he seemed more content than before the calamity.

He seemed freer. More communicative and open. In the mood for jokes and mischief, like a little boy. Despite all he had experienced and been through, Link's shoulders seemed lighter without many of his old memories.

But he had noticed that she would prefer if he remembered completely.

And while it hadn't bothered him at first, he now reacted irritably when he came across a reminder of his broken memory.

She had taken that peace away from him.

The situation had become so complicated. So narrow and black. And the more time passed, the more difficult it became to talk about it.

And as charged as the subject was, Zelda still preferred the uneasy silence to bursting into tears when it came up.

That would happen, she was sure. And she had embarrassed him enough with her tears.

Murky thoughts continued to drift through her mind, all her energy already spent on the day's work. She felt tired and an oppressive pain had arisen behind her eyes. She had to get up and go to the library. Continue researching for the treasurer's records.

That she might not find those records was another problem she would have to face.

It would then be necessary for her to-

"You're pretty hard to find these days." Zelda flinched at the sound of the voice. But the fright didn't last long. As usual, he was so quiet that she hadn't heard him. Perhaps her gloomy thoughts were also to blame for her distraction.

She did not turn to face him, but remained where she was. On the ground in front of the ruined wall, her arms wrapped around her knees. "I wanted to be alone." She hoped he would draw his conclusions from her tone and leave her be.

"So I'll bring this to you later?" He sounded as if he hadn't noticed her mood. Which wasn't possible. So Zelda turned her head in his direction after all.

At the sight of him, her heart did a little jump, as it usually did when she saw him. This reaction was so familiar to her that she hardly noticed it. The crystalline joy that spread through her wasn't new to her as well. He looked the same as always, his posture relaxed and detached, his expression neutral. Yet even this calm, he radiated strength. A dominance that had not only to do with power, but originated from somewhere deep inside of him.

A hero straight out of a legend. No one had ever thought him a failure. Or a mishap.

A lump formed in Zelda's throat.

"What is that?" she asked around the pressure in her throat, nodding toward the bag hanging off Link's right shoulder.

His answer was prompt. He grinned, so suddenly that Zelda had to blink. The sun chose that moment to burst out from between the clouds, revealing Link's splendour.

"Come here and have a look." He managed to make those simple words sound like a temptation.

It took Zelda a moment to respond. He was in a strange mood.

But then, so was she.

Sighing, she rose and stepped out from behind the wall. Link waited until she was almost in front of him until he let the bag slide off his shoulder. Then he handed it to her.

It was a small roll of cloth on a thin leather strap. No, there was something wrapped inside the linen. At her questioning look, Nodding, Link motioned for her to open it.

He almost vibrated with anticipation, his expression so pleased that Zelda had to smile against her will. .

Amusement got stuck in her chest, though, as she inspected the contents. They were papers. A large stack of hand-crafted paper, written in tight, neat handwriting that she recognized immediately.

She took a sharp breath. "This is-", she uttered, so bewildered, the words slipped from her lips. Again Link's grin flashed at her. He looked like a cat who had caught several mice at once.

The case made of fabric slipped carelessly out of Zelda's hand after she had freed the it's papery treasure. Once again, she found it difficult to breathe. Oh, by the goddess.

She fanned the papers between her hands. Trying to discover as much as possible at once to confirm her suspicions. Her hope was not disappointed. She held records of the treasurer in her hands. And the title of the treatise allowed no other conclusion than that it was exactly what she had been looking for days, no, weeks.

"Oh, Link..." she breathed, looking up at him. His grin had turned into a gentle smile, glowing with satisfaction as he returned her gaze. Only now did she notice the golden stubble on his cheeks. He'd probably tossed and turned all night after she'd wearily fallen into her own bed. Only now did she notice the golden stubble on his cheeks, a witness to his eventful night. He probably hadn't slept at all.

Relief and gratitude rolled over her in a wave so great that Zelda felt totally helpless. A sound part sob, part disbelief escaped her and before she knew it, she had thrown her arms around Link's neck. Despite the speed of her movement, he embraced her without a moment's hesitation. She could feel the vibration of his soft laughter as he pulled her closer.

Still clutching the papers, Zelda crossed her hands behind his neck.

For a moment, she thought of nothing except the fact that she could stop looking for those darn records. For the moment, at least, she no longer had an acute problem. And it was infinitely liberating.

So liberating that it felt like her whole body was softening. She melted deeper into the embrace, their two bodies so close she could feel Link's heartbeat, a steady strong throb.

The combination of his incomparable scent - man and leather and Link - and his unyielding, strong, lean body, promised precious security.

A feeling so familiar, so missed, that she sighed and shuddered.

Her grip tightened, an intuitive response to something that was right and good and necessary and that she never wanted to let go.

Link made a soft satisfied-sounding noise, and Zelda felt him turn his head and take a deep breath, his nose buried in her hair.

For a moment, just a small moment, she allowed herself to feel deep peace.

The pleasure of the contours of another body against hers. Its luxurious warmth. The deep sense of connection, of home, of rightness.

Zelda didn't register when it changed, exactly.

When warmth turned to heat. When the comfort of touch became a tingling sensation that penetrated to her very bones and gave her goose bumps.

From security to longing, from calm to greed.

Suddenly, the silent closeness was not enough. The air hummed inaudibly, filled with invisible lightning, about to strike.

Zelda wanted to rub her nose against his neck, wanted to crawl inside Link, wanted to feel his salty-smelling skin beneath her lips.

She wanted-

Startled, she took a step back. Almost tripped over her feet in her rush.

Heavens, what had she been thinking!

Awkwardly, her cheeks flushed with shame. Burning, Zelda straightened the pages in her hands. She kept her eyes lowered as she frantically searched for the right words.

A renewed expression of her gratitude.

An apology.

A change of subject.

Everything seemed strange to her, like a signpost pointing directly at her inappropriate behaviour with a big fat arrow.

Thank the goddess, that Link couldn't see inside her head. She had behaved like one of the many ladies-in-waiting who had always looked after him with hearts where should have been eyes, sighing and swooning. Almost every female had looked at Link like that, fascinated by his looks and his status as the goddess's chosen hero, only goaded by his stoically mysterious nature. That had not changed, it just was not as noticeable as before, because there were fewer women.

Zelda had always tried to fight against the impulse inside her that demanded she'd do the same. She didn't want to make a fool of herself like that, and so far she had succeeded.

At least as far as her behaviour was concerned.

She had never wanted to embarrass him with her feelings or put him in a difficult situation. She had struggled to keep a healthy distance, even when everything in her screamed for her to do what she had just done. What she had let herself do.

She lifted her head so she could apologize, the urge so great that it overshadowed everything else.

But when their eyes met, all words inside her head fell silent.

She was so used to his semi-focused stares, his terse reactions, his senses always focused on several things at once as he assessed dangers and mentally weighed predictions, that the intensity of his full attention completely unhinged her.

Link regarded her silently, the full force of his gaze fixed on her. Zelda felt the heat rising in her once again. No longer in her cheeks, but in her bones. Her belly. Her ears.

It was unsettling. The meaning of that look and her response to it. Could he sense her reaction to the embrace that had begun so innocently? Had his fine senses and almost superhuman perceptiveness allowed him to draw the right conclusions? That the princess of Hyrule was a simple-minded girl, guided by her baser instincts, who had neither her heart nor her body under control, and who took advantage of the kindness of her faithful knight and friend? The faithful knight and friend who could know nothing of her foolish feelings for him since. That she had been lost the very moment he had confessed to her to being a glutton, the tip of his ears tinted in the most adorable shade of red. That a fifth chamber had sprung up in her silly little heart, which had been filled with him alone ever since. Link.

He couldn't have known. Could he?

She had hidden it so well. Had always been so careful, so reserved. Had made sure to keep her distance. She was the princess and he the hero. Her appointed knight. They had never been more than that. He had never shown her more than loyalty and kindness, never more. Before the Calamity, there had been no room for anything of the sort anyway. Her existence too filled with the approaching threat, with fading hope and the eternal sense of failure. No ground for romantic feelings.

And after that ...

After that, Zelda had sometimes thought ... had sometimes wondered if maybe ... There had been those glances. Those random touches that happened too often to be accidental. That teasing tone of voice.

But they had been hopeful imaginings of a naive, inexperienced girl whose sense of love was awakening with full force for the first time after years of danger and hopelessness. A belated maturing.

And her musings on possible glances and touches that might have meant more, the fantasies of a fool.

For a time, Zelda had even shamefully suspected that he recognized this crush and wanted to put a gentle, diplomatic damper on her hopes.

There had been that one moment. When she remembered it, she still felt horrible.

He had looked at her as he did now. Straight, silent, intent. She had laughed at something he had said, about what she no longer remembered. But when she had calmed down, she had noticed his gaze. He had looked at her unblinking for so long that her heart had begun to beat wildly. His eyes deep and unreadable, but Zelda had imagined she knew what that glittering look meant. She had thought he was remembering something. Something important. Her breath had caught.

But then his eyes had widened and something in his face had darkened. When he looked at her again, a wall seemed to have been formed between them, and Zelda knew that it was not she who had seen something in his gaze, but he who had seen something in hers.

Not a memory, not the fulfilment of her every childish fantasy. But rather a guard who recognized imminent danger. In the form of a foolish girl who was about to lose her heart.

Zelda did not resent him for it or took offens at his curt dismissal of her inquiries. She had understood.

She still did. And now she was standing here, embarrassing herself to the bone. Again.

What a mess.

"Link," she began a little breathlessly, "I-"

*** ***** ***

Whatever Zelda had wanted to say was lost in the loud swoosh of powerful wings that swept in in a cloud of wind and sound.

Link saw her flinch and look around in momentary confusion until she, too, correctly categorized the sound and looked up at the sky. He reluctantly looked away from her, but his instincts screamed for him to react.

He took a step closer to Zelda, causing her to tense. Frustrated, he suppressed a curse. It was probably the most ill-timed moment for a messenger to show up. But the Orni had never been good with time.

Link gave the messenger a correspondingly frosty look as he respectfully greeted Zelda.

How had the stupid bird known where she was? It had taken Link almost all morning to find her.

His mood became a little darker.

How quickly the day could turn.

As often scarce with words, the messenger handed the message to Zelda, who pounced on it a bit too enthusiastically.

Link took a deep breath and let his eyes wander over the castle hill, mentally resigned to the fact that she would be tense and distant in the coming days. At least in his presence.

"That's Impa's seal," Zelda said, as the Orni scampered across the hillside after a farewell, then quickly gained a few feet in height. Link watched him go, his mind still on Zelda's obvious worry that he could be so socially damaged that he would misunderstand a simple hug.

How wrong she was. He knew his place perfectly well. He had known it for countless incarnations. He was the hero at her side. Never more.

Fine-tuned to her every mood and reaction, Link's thoughts evaporated when he noticed the delicate crease that had formed between Zelda's eyebrows.

Immediately, all his attention was focused on her.

"It's from Paya," Zelda said, looking up at him briefly as if expecting an explanation from him. But he just shruggd. He didn't know any more than she did. Paya had grown more and more into her innate position as leader of her tribe in recent years, but she remained shy and timid around Link. She never actively sought contact with him. So he would be the last to know if Paya had anything to share.

When he remained silent about this new information, Zelda began to read, facing away from him.

A moment later, she sucked in a startled breath.

"Impa is sick." Again she looked up, her eyes wide and glittering with worry.

"Yesterday, Grandmother was enjoying good health," Zelda read aloud, "and this morning she awoke with aching limbs and a nasty cough. As always, she is our strong leader and tells us not to worry. But I can't help it. Grandmother is an old woman. I fear for her life."

Zelda lowered the letter and turned back to him.

"Impa is sick," she repeated, stunned.

Wordlessly, Link motioned her to give him the letter.

The fact that she handed it over without argument was a sign of how much the news upset her.

He skimmed Paya's message as quickly as possible. He tried to deduce the probable facts from the fearful nature of the author.

Finally, he took a deep breath and sought Zelda's gaze.

"It's very likely that Paya's fear is making her exaggerate."

Zelda shook her head. "You can't know that."

He made an approving gesture. "That's true. But that doesn't make it any less likely."

"Probabilities won't get us anywhere. Impa is sick!"

The excessive panic in her voice gave Link pause. He regarded Zelda in silence for a moment.

"Zelda," he finally said, low and urgent. "If you weren't worried, you could look at this logically, so-"

"You're saying, I'm not logical?"

It was never a good sign when her voice got that high.

"No. Just very concerned about a very good friend."

The sudden flare of anger faded from her expression and was replaced by pain. Her eyes gleamed wetly and Link felt something inside him sting at the sight.

He waved the letter briefly. "Have you continued reading?"

Zelda shook her head and reached for the paper, probably to do just that. He raised his arm so she couldn't reach it. Outraged, she looked up.

"She writes that she asked Impa to expose herself to Purah's Anti-Aging Rune," Link said without giving her Paya's message.

In rapid succession, different emotions flitted across Zelda's face.

Surprise. Hope. Defense. Interest. Link let the windmill of her mind grind away on these news for a while. Finally, he asked: "You're not seriously considering it, are you?"

Zelda shot him a hurt look, opened her mouth for a moment, but then fell silent.

Slowly, he lowered the letter.

"This Anti-Aging Rune isn't working."

Immediately, her expression shuttered.

"Of course the technology works. Purah is the best example of that," Zelda said, crossing her arms in front of her chest. Her hair, now in a golden braid down her back, swayed.

"Exactly," he replied in a flat voice. "Purah is the best example."

"There are worse things than being twelve years old," snapped Zelda. She couldn't have made it clearer that she wasn't sure about the technology any more than Link was.

"Yes," he said as empathetically as he could without seeming condescending. "And that is to be dead. Is that what you're actually saying?"

First she paled, then a blush crept up her face, making her cheeks glow and the green of her eyes glaze over.

Her gaze flickered and her breathing became shallow.

"Zelda," Link said, taking another step toward her. They stood as close as they could without touching. "Impa is one hundred and thirty years old. She is an old woman who has lived a rich life. Few people are as wise as she is. If she doesn't worry about her life, we should give her the respect of trusting her judgment."

A few of the tears in Zelda's eyes had loosened and hung like transparent pearls in her lashes. At that moment, he had to activate all the coordinative discipline at his disposal to keep his face neutral.

It almost physically hurt that he couldn't save her from all the pain in the world. Sometimes that was just part of life. And if he wanted the best for her, then he had to allow her to experience life with all its many facets. She had proven often enough that she was strong enough.

"You mean she's going to die?" said Zelda in a choking voice. Opposing emotions filled Link's chest. Pain, at her obvious fear of losing Impa, tender amusement at the childlike innocence of her reaction, and the bone-crushing urge to take her in his arms. To hold her against him as he had just done. To feel the tender yielding of her body, to offer them both comfort.

He was also attached to Impa. She had been an important support for him on his journey to himself. On his journey to Zelda, the journey to save Hyrule. And he knew from some of the memories that had caught up with him since then, that they had been through some difficulties together. Back when Impa had been young and her sword had been fast and dangerous.

"I mean that she probably knows more about the state of her health than Paya does." He raised his hand when Zelda tried to interrupt him. "And that she has the best interests of the Shiekah at heart. Always." He then held Paya's letter out to her. "Whatever that means. Impa will know."

Zelda's gaze rested on his outstretched hand for a few moments.

Then, finally, she accepted the letter.

"Whatever this means," she repeated softly.

"Paya is also asking us to come to Kakariko," Link said after Zelda had not moved for several breaths.

At his words, she looked up.

She looked exhausted and crumpled. A sight that made something in him vibrate. An image flickered in his mind and disappeared again, the outlines fuzzy and curved, like a disturbed reflection on a water surface.

He mentally shook off the shred of memory. Hardly a day went by without such images appearing. Most of the time they made no sense, but were just that: images. But this one didn't. This one made sense.

And Link didn't want to remember Zelda suffering. It showed too clearly how little he had been able to do about her despair. Back then, a hundred years ago.

Zelda took the letter.

"She hopes you can speak to Impa's conscience," he said, so she wouldn't have to look for the passage.

Questioningly, she met his gaze, the realization in it astute. "You disagree."

Again, Link merely raised his shoulders. "No one can make Impa do anything she doesn't want to do." His lips twitched as he thought of the stubborn, wonderful old woman.

"But maybe your visit will calm Paya. And you can see for yourself the state of Impa's health."

Above all, it would take Zelda's mind off all that was waiting for her in the castle. Even if Paya's letter represented a new worry for Zelda, the message was the perfect excuse for him to get her out of here for a few days.

Briefly, she looked at him as if she knew exactly that he was trying to lead her in a certain direction. She saw through a surprising amount of his thought processes.

She fell silent for a while, apparently thinking very hard.

"If you start packing now, we could be on our way in less than two hours."

Interrupted in her musings, she blinked like a little owl. Warm affection swirled through his chest. Sometimes she was so endearing it hurt.

"In two hours?" Her voice sounded a little breathless. Vehemently, she shook her head. "That's way too little time. I have to get the-"

"Zelda," Link interrupted her before she could gabble on. "Paya knew when she sent the letter that it would reach you no later than afternoon. If she hadn't felt any time pressure in doing so, she would have sent it tomorrow." He pointed in the direction of Zelda's tower. "Pack your things. I'll be back in two hours."

Her eyes darted around frantically as she searched for counterarguments while already going through lists and mentally writing the most important orders for her absence.

As big as her brain was, she had a tendency to get caught up in her thoughts. And then there was no moving forward. In these situations, you just had to put a decision in front of her and hope she took the bait.

But Link had always harboured a weakness for risk. Sometimes it didn't line up with his strong protective instinct. But most of the time, the two traits lived in peaceful harmony. This was mainly because the risk-taking instinct was related to his own life and the protective instinct was related to that of others, especially Zelda's.

"But-" she began again, but Link took advantage of the moment to bend down for the bag Zelda had dropped and handed it to her. Perplexed, she accepted the bag and while balancing the papers tucked under her arm, the bag, and Paya's message. Over the coordinative challenge she forgot what she had wanted to say.

Link stifled a grin. He rolled up Paya's letter, which he had taken from Zelda so she could put the treasurer's notes back in the bag.

All night he had been trying to get into areas of the castle that he so far had always skipped on his rambles because of the massive destruction.

But finally he had managed to squeeze past some beams and reach a previously unreachable floor. He almost gave up.

But the corridors and rooms that came to light were surprisingly intact and, above all, free of the destruction that the countless monsters had caused in the rest of the castle over the years.

However, it was no easy task to search in the dark for something you didn't know what it looked like.

Fortunately, the old treasurer's private study was clearly recognizable as such. And a thick stack of writings had been enthroned in the middle of what was, miraculously, a completely undamaged table. Begging to be found and read. Sometimes, fate was on their side.

"Two hours, then", Link said again.

It wasn't a question, and Zelda recognized the amused impertinence in his request. Her gaze clearly told Link that she saw right through him, but she remained silent and only nodded in acknowledgement.

A small smile stole onto his face as he turned away to make some preparations of his own. A few days away from the castle. A few days of rest from the everyday problems that kept Zelda busy.

Sometimes you had to take what life sent and make the best of it. In this case, Impa's cough gave Link the opportunity to take Zelda to Kakariko. And from there, perhaps, to another place.

The thought appealed to him more and more every second.

Behind him, he heard Zelda hurrying up the steps of the defensive wall that would take her to her tower. He allowed himself a quick glance at her bobbing braid and then fell into an easy trot.. He had some arrangements to make as well. But he didn't mind the rush. He had learned to live with time pressure.

~ mit Feuer gemalt


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your comments, Kudos and generel attention. It is wonderful to have people all over the world reading my stories. Again, I apologize for any errors and thank you for your kind patients with me. Have fun with this newly translated chapter.

**A** little later, when Zelda came down the stairs that led to her tower, Link was already waiting for her. She had wanted to be first. Then she could have smiled mockingly at him and would have felt a little better. But once again, he had been faster.

Damn!

He was leaning against the wall with his shoulder, looking out onto the plain, not responding to her.

Then she could have smiled mockingly at him and would have felt a little better. But once again, he had been faster.

Damn!

He was already leaning with his shoulder against the bounding wall, looking out onto the plain and didn't seem to notice her. At least he didn't react and kept staring ahead, as still as a statue.

An eyebrow raised, Zelda came to a stop in front of him and waited a moment. Then she held her luggage out to him. A heartbeat passed. Then another.

Since no scenario existed in which he could not have noticed her, Zelda waited, playing the game. Although her arms were increasingly protesting under the weight of her luggage.

She was on the verge of flicking her index finger at the tip of his nose. Or just slamming her bags in front of his chest. First he rushed her like that, and now he just stood there staring into nothing.

Zelda's eyes narrowed. She inhaled and opened her mouth, but at that very moment Link's gaze abruptly focused on her.

She flinched as his attention so suddenly locked onto her. A shiver ran through her, hot and cold in equal measure, licking at her bones.

Her breath hitched, but as quickly as the feeling had come, it fizzled out again as Link's lips twisted into a tight smile, taking the edge off the moment. Relief and disappointment danced a bumpy, pathetic dance in Zelda's insides. Ridiculous. She was just ridiculous.

Trying not to pay further attention to herself, Zelda gestured with the two satchels she was still holding out to Link. they were getting heavy. Her arms had already lost some height.

Without averting his eyes, he accepted her luggage and threw the two interconnected bags over his right shoulder.

They contained some clothes, a few items for personal hygiene and vanity, and most importantly: her notebook and the treasurer's records.

Zelda had learned to travel with very little.

That's why the wince and the contorted face Link displayed was really uncalled for. She frowned as the hero of Hyrule looked at her accusingly.

"I suppose you couldn't find something heavier in the hurry?" Somewhat exaggeratedly, he rolled his shoulders. "Feels like you packed your chandelier."

Zelda didn't ennoble this obvious nonsense with a comment. Wordlessly, she started moving, trusting Link to follow her. After all, it was he who had urged her to hurry.

"Or did you find some rocks under your bed that you really wanted to take with you?"

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him rearranging her luggage on his shoulder.

"What for? Do you expect to have to bribe some Gorons? Honestly, what do you have in there? A bag of carpenter's nails?"

Zelda rolled her eyes.

"An extra set of horseshoes for Neva?"

"You know," Zelda said as they passed the man-made pond next to which a small pavilion had once stood. All that was left of it was the mosaic-paved base; the rest of the ruins had been taken down and the stones used elsewhere. "I liked you a lot better when you had to be assisted in your every word."

When she turned her head to look haughtily at him, his amused gaze was already on her.

"Liar," he said softly, the tone almost affectionate. Zelda averted her eyes, a telltale blush in her cheeks and annoyed that his voice alone could do that to her.

But the moment passed, as Link had obviously taken a liking to his little game.

"The old anvil that Hudson discarded?"

Zelda sighed, a sound of heavy suffering. The reason for his good humor was a mystery to her.

"Is it the love letters from Kass' master? Is that your secret bedtime reading?" He chuckled jerkily, a sound so rare that Zelda regarded him with concern. He met her gaze with eyes shining bright with mischief and the amusement, that revealed a small dimple next to the left side of his mouth, not quite at the level of his cheek.

Struggling for poise, Zelda looked toward the sky. A laugh was building up inside her chest that she would not release under any circumstances.

Especially since the thought of the former court bard forced the blush into her cheeks once again. Even worse was the memory of Kass' epic song and the fact that even a hundred years ago there had been wild speculation about her feelings for Link. The first time Zelda had heard the song, she had been mortified to the core. Only Link's nonchalant handling of the song's lyrics had kept her from passing out on the spot from sheer humiliation.

"Come on, tell me." He was walking a few paces ahead of her now, with his back turned so that he could look at her, and Zelda fervently hoped that he would trip over a rock and bloody his nose. But luck never really had been on her side.

She regarded him as loftily as she could. "It's your giant ego, Hero of Hyrule," she said sweetly. "Be careful it doesn't break your back."

Maybe she was just imagining it, but at her words his eyes blazed even brighter. His brief, quick grin, though, she couldn't have imagined.

His amused chuckle rang out again, a happy, throaty sound that echoed warmly in her chest.

Zelda felt a little lighter as they made the rest of their way, down the mostly intact stairs to the first gatehouse, to where their horses were waiting.

The old stables no longer existed, eaten away in a hundred years of Calamity, and Link had sent someone with a message to the settlement that had grown on the ruins of Hyrule Castle Town. The new Guard, who also manned the watchtowers of the former town walls, housed their horses and donkeys in a new stable building. However, it was not possible to get there in less than half an hour. Therefore, it had become customary to have the horses brought up to the first gatehouse, where a wooden bar had been installed above a drinking trough that was continuously filled by the generously bubbling springs of the castle hill.

The snow-white coat of her mare shimmered mistily in the dim light of day. A descendant of her old stallion, of whose fate Zelda now knew a little about, thanks to Link and his initiative to capture the wild horse in the meadows at the foot of Satori Mountain. It had made her grief for the animal a little easier.

Zelda rubbed Neva's nose as the mare greeted her with a happy snort. She was already saddled, the harness' leather clean and supple, and a sleeping roll was fastened behind the saddle. Just like it used to be.

The thought made her nostalgic. Even if the horse was different and the harness was not made of fine material. Even if the memory of those times a hundred years ago was mainly painful, there was still a sense of security in it.

Those times outside the castle, tracing the ancient technologies and her sealing power, had meant a lot to Zelda. She had been free. Free to be herself and not just the princess.

She and Link in the wilderness. That had been her idea of a fulfilled life back then.

Now she smiled at her own naiveté.

Behind her, she heard the familiar creak of leather as Link checked his cinches. Even though he had tamed and ridden several horses after his awakening in the Shrine of Resurrection, the same animal had always been at his side since the battle with Ganon.

A brown stallion with a dark mane, a stormy temperament and unshakable endurance, who by now went by the name of Shem. He resembled the horse Link had ridden a hundred years ago very much, at least outwardly. For back then it had been a frugal, powerful mare that had sometimes looked a bit dumpy next to Zelda's own handsome stallion.

She scratched Neva's ears and sighed at the analogy. So much was different. And yet, one recognized the pattern of repetition in change. Someone wiser could surely draw something very instructive about life from this thought.

Someone else. Not herself. For despite her connection to Nayru, Zelda was anything but wise. She proved that to herself anew every day when she looked at Link, her heart making a leap.

It had always hurt Zelda's pride that she herself had to struggle for wisdom while Link was so effortlessly connected to the principle under which his birth had stood: courage.

Zelda, at any rate, had not been wise at seventeen and certainly was not now. No wonder the spirit of Nayru had not revealed itself at the spring of wisdom.

"How old are we, anyway?" This was not the first time Zelda had asked herself the question, new was, however, that she had voiced it. She had mounted Neva and was reaching for the reins as she searched for a comfortable position.

Link paused in his motion. He sat twisted in the saddle, tampering with the luggage roll on Shem's croup. Zelda's own luggage was nowhere to be seen. Link had probably made it disappear in his pockets, which had been enlarged by Korok magic.

Her question seemed to irritate him, so Zelda elaborated as she pushed Neva forward with her thighs.

"I mean, do the hundred years count?" She tugged at the mare's mane to keep it from getting under the saddle, holding the reins in her left hand. "Am I twenty-two years old or one hundred and twenty-two?"

She turned her head to look at Link. He returned her gaze with a completely blank expression.

Zelda frowned. "Haven't you ever wondered?"

"Is that such a woman thing?" His question made her blink in bewilderment.

"What?"

He raised his shoulders. "Well, the fear of getting older is especially common among women."

Zelda looked at him silently for a few moments.

"You can't be serious," she finally said. This wasn't about vanity. He had to know that.

Again, he raised his shoulders. "I just don't understand the question."

Her nostrils flared slightly as she tilted her chin back in irritation. "What's not to understand about the question? It's a perfectly normal question."

"It's a charged question. And you know it."

He let his stallion walk on a relaxed rein, his gaze fixed on the old path up to the castle, down which they were now riding. Because of that, at least Zelda was spared from his all-seeing eyes, so she could let her face take on a hurt expression without him noticing.

Actually, she really would have been interested to know if he felt a hundred years older or if he simply considered his life paused for that time. For him it was certainly a somewhat different matter anyway, since he had spent the hundred years in actual sleep.

She herself, on the other hand, remembered moments of clarity. Without direct references to time, she knew that she had witnessed fragments of the one hundred years. Her body seemed to have been in a kind of stasis, similar to Links. She had felt no hunger. No thirst. Had neither been breathing nor sleeping, but her mind had been partially conscious.

So, had she aged?

Zelda sighed. Maybe the question really wasn't a neutral one. Because if she asked herself honestly, she didn't even know what she would do with the answer.

It had just interested her.

Maybe so she could feel better about not being blessed with wisdom? Not even she herself would ask that of a young woman. But it was quite different for an old woman.

Zelda shooed the thought away and concentrated on keeping Neva's gait steady. The mare had not been given enough exercise for a long time, even though the grooms took good care of the horses.

They passed the castle gate a little later. Zelda nodded to the guardsman stationed there, who saluted her while Link briefly exchanged a few words with him.

They left the gate behind and found their way through the old streets of the town to whose sides sporadic houses had been built again. Not the tall stone houses with the flashing blue shingle roofs. Modest houses made of wood and clay, partly covered with straw. But a newly raised well was well attended and children played in the streets.

Zelda loved this settlement. Loved that Hylians gave up their old lives to come here. To help with the work on the castle, to share their knowledge and crafts. Carpenters, stonemasons, blacksmiths. A jeweler, tailors and a tanner.

If Zelda managed to push aside the memory of Hyrule Castle Town, she felt pure elation when she visited here.

This time, they didn't stay long. They passed through the main gate of the partially restored city wall and were on the street next to the Sacred Ground ruins when, to Zelda's astonishment, Link brought up the subject again.

"I think I feel older than I am physically," he said pensively. Surprised, Zelda turned her gaze to him. "But I don't know if that's because of the Shrine of Resurrection."

Zelda pondered his words as they rode toward Mabe Prairie.

The clatter of the horses' hooves on the road surface, which was still partially paved with the old cobblestones, stirred nostalgic feelings in her.

"You once said the sword would show you images. From other lives."

It was one of the incidents Zelda knew he remembered. She had watched it happen. Back when she had floated disembodied in the nimbus between worlds, holding Ganon. Had seen him pause at the exact spot on Lake Kolomo where she had stopped more than a hundred years ago and asked him if there was an inherent voice in the sword and if he would hear it. Had seen his eyes widen and his breath catch as the images flooded him.

Zelda had become sensitive to these moments. When the fog in his mind parted and revealed memories. The more suddenly it happened, the less Link could hide his reaction to it. But it had become a topic neither of them liked to talk about. Each for their own reasons.

The last time she had asked him about it, he had become cold and dismissive. Really dismissive, in a way Link never was, and he had visibly withdrawn from her. After that, they had never talked about his memories again, the subject like one of those globes of electricity between them, only that it's bolts were toxic.

Zelda knew it hadn't gotten any easier for Link to navigate the tangle of memories since he'd retrieved the sacred sword from the Lost Woods. For to the flickering fragments of his life a hundred years ago, images had been added of the lives of the other heroes.

The other heroes.

It was not natural for Zelda to identify these mythical figures with herself and Link, even though that was probably the case. For her, it was always _the other princesses_. _The other heroes_. Not she and he in times long past.

She had not asked him any deeper about it, but Zelda was almost certain that Link had brought the sword back to the Korok forest for the same reason. Even though his explanation, that the sword had served its purpose by sealing Ganon again and that he would no longer need his services, sounded plausible and reasonable Zelda still believed that Link was relieved not to have to deal with the memories of the other heroes any longer.

And she understood, even if she missed the sight of the sword. She, who in the past would have preferred to put the sword at the bottom of the sea.

To find one's orientation in the midst of so many lives, to have to find _oneself_ in them, could not be easy.

Accordingly, Zelda's neck tensed when she asked him about it, secretly expecting his defence. But Link's expression remained neutral, perhaps becoming a little thoughtful.

"Why do you say that?" Link asked, after they had ridden side by side in silence for quite some time.

"Because maybe that's where it comes from," she said, relieved at his reaction. "Your sense of being older, I mean. After all, within yourself rests the soul of the hero. And that is ancient."

Link seemed to ponder this. But he then just shrugged his shoulders. Zelda could see the moment when he discarded the thought as meaningless.

"Let's just stipulate that we look pretty fresh for our advanced age." He tilted his head slightly. "Especially you, Princess."

She pursed her mouth. In any case, her original question had lost all seriousness.

And she didn't particularly appreciate the innuendo about her vanity, even if it was in jest. She fought the urge to stick out her tongue at him.

It probably would have passed by Link anyway.

He had tightened his grip on the stallion's reins.

"We should increase our speed," he finally said.

He was right. They'd better get a move on if they were to make it to the few inns nightfall. A few of them had sprung up around the country in the last several years.

Agreeing, Zelda spurred Neva to a brisk trot. Link had his stallion follow instantly.

Trot, walk, light canter, walk, trot. The gentlest way to cover many miles without having to change horses. Zelda knew these changes of gait from their previous trips.

But the days of long journeys were far behind and soon Zelda felt every muscle in her body.

After only two hours, any attempt at conversation had fallen silent.

Link, as usual, showed good empathy and made an absolutely apt assessment of what he could and could not trust her to do.

Even if he wasn't obviously watching her, he knew exactly when to slow down so she wouldn't fall out of the saddle.

Still, Zelda felt stiff and bruised even before dawn broke. And when they reached the inn at Proxim Bridge, just before the last light of day went out, the thought of a soft bed made her feel dizzy.

The wind had picked up and a light drizzle had begun to fall. Her cloak of thick wool protected her to some extent from both, but the combination of exhaustion and cold robbed her of even more strength.

The inn was one of the new guest houses that had been built because there were more travellers again. Paying travellers who didn't want to sleep under tarps in the forest, but who also didn't want to spend the night with several strangers in an unheated room that smelled of horses.

The defeat of Ganon had made businessmen brave. The fact that marauding monsters posed no longer a threat also helped.

Here at the river, in the immediate surroundings of the plateau, several paths diverged, the location so central that there had once been a small town on the very spot. All that remained of it were the ruins, but the owners of this inn had, in spirit of old times, erected a multi-storied house of stone with an adjoining stable with the still usable materials of the former constructions. Zelda had approved the plans for the building several years ago, but had never stayed here, for she rarely left the castle.

When she did, it was with much more pre-planning. She had never left this late in the day, so she was usually well beyond this area by the time it got dark.

But with her lack of resilience, they hadn't been able to hit a faster pace.

The lighted windows of the inn beckoned with warmth and refuge, and despite her concern for Impa, Zelda felt relieved to be able to spend the night here.

A campfire burned in front of the newly built stable complex, where a Hylian armed with a bow and arrow sat, scratching a shaggy dog. Probably the guard for the night. The man straightened as Link rode up to him, but then waved at a stable hand. He probably recognized Link or responded immediately to his aura of confidence, because Zelda couldn't imagine any armed traveller being welcomed in such a friendly manner.

However, she was too exhausted to think about it any further.

She stroked Neva's mane one last time and then released her feet from the stirrups. Swinging her leg over the saddle's pommel was harder than before, but even though it certainly looked awkward, at least she didn't get caught on it. Before she could fully slide out of the saddle, Link was there to keep her from falling down like a wet sack.

With his arms at her waist, he helped her find her balance, and after she straightened her cloak, he gave her a small, encouraging smile.

"Go on in, I'll take care of the horses and the bags."

Zelda nodded and brushed the damp hair from her face, her body too tired to respond greatly to Link's nearness.

The taproom was warm and bright, the entire lower level furnished with several wooden round tables, lit by candles. The warmth emanated from the large open fireplace around which several travellers sat, smoking pipes and filling the room with their voices.

It smelled of pipe-weed and roasted meat, a smell to which Zelda's stomach responded approvingly with a grumble. She had skipped breakfast, and the apple Link had forced on her along the way hadn't really been substantial enough to outweigh the unaccustomed physical exercise.

"Room and dinner for you?" A motherly-looking woman with a round, friendly face had approached Zelda. The woman's open but otherwise neutral expression made it clear that she did not recognize Zelda as the Princess of Hyrule.

Zelda nodded and then immediately shook her head again. She managed an apologetic smile.

"Room and dinner for two. I mean, dinner for two and two rooms. Right next to each other, if you can. The rooms I mean."

The innkeeper nodded despite Zelda's stuttering and directed her to hang the damp cloak near the fire to dry. She was probably used to travellers not being the most eloquent conversationalists at the end of the day.

Zelda shook her head and clasped the clasp of her woollen cloak in an explanatory gesture. She didn't want to mingle.

"I'd rather go straight to my room. I'll pay in advance, too." She fumbled to pull out her small purse, her movements greatly slowed.

The landlady interrupted her with a good-natured wave.

"You shouldn't worry about something like that, so late in the evening." She looked at Zelda for a while, then gestured to someone standing somewhere off to the side.

"Nel will take you to your room and start the fire. But it will take a bit of time to get warm."

A young woman with rosy cheeks and fair hair tied in a knot at the nape of her neck approached. Zelda smiled gratefully.

"A little warm water would be appreciated. For my travelling companion, too."

"Will your ... companion also not take his dinner in the guest room?"

Zelda hesitated as she noticed the innkeeper's barely perceptible faltering. What was the woman thinking? That they were lovers on the run? The thought made Zelda blush, even if it was abstruse. The warm tingle was welcome, however, as clammy and cold as she felt all over her body.

"It's best you ask him that yourself. I don't think he'll need much longer with the horses."

Whatever the innkeeper might be thinking, she had now hidden it entirely behind a professional expression. She exchanged a few more instructing words with Nel, then the maid led Zelda to a cozy, clean room upstairs.

The fire had already been set in the small fireplace, and Nel lit it with a flint she carried in her apron.

"I'll bring dinner right away, then," she said, wiping her hands on a cloth that lay over her shoulder. "It won't take long."

Zelda nodded gratefully and lit a narrow sliver of wood on the now crackling fire. Than she went on to lighting the candles that were scattered around the room. A large oil lamp hanging from the ceiling in the centre had already been burning when they entered.

Zelda was grateful for the little bit of privacy. When they had gone to Kakariko after defeating Ganon, Link had rented her a bed in one of the small mobile stables. After that, Zelda had preferred to sleep out under the stars.

Another Hylian woman who did not introduce herself by name, but who looked too much like Nel not to be related to her, knocked on the door a little later. She had a high rimmed bowl in her arms and, upon entering, picked up a large clay pitcher from the floor which she had placed there so she could knock on the door.

Steam curled up from the jug.

"Hot water for a foot bath," the girl explained, placing the bowl on the floor in front of the bed. Then she filled it with the hot water.

"Warms you better than a fire pitcher." At Zelda's confused look, she explained with a smile, "It's the house speciality. Home-brewed with honey and spices. The women here drink it in hot milk." Her smile turned momentarily conspiratorial. "And the men pure. But they always have to exaggerate. Are you from Necluda?"

The quick change of subject left Zelda a little disoriented, so she simply shook her head silently in response.

"You look so familiar, that's why I thought..." she broke off thoughtfully, but then made a dismissive motion. "Anyway, it doesn't matter. Have a good night." She curtsied once and left the room in a whirlwind of good humour and flying coattails. Zelda stared at the door, then at her steaming foot bath.

It had all happened so quickly that she had to process the significance of the brought basin.

Gratitude flooded her as she caught up with her thinking. The landlady must have recognized the coldness in Zelda's limbs. She would definitely have to show her appreciation for that foresight.

She slipped the clammy boots off her feet and rolled off the knitted socks - fine stockings were the only luxury she really missed. She pushed her pants up to her knees and then moved the bowl to the chair that stood by the fireplace.

Then she closed her eyes in bliss, shuddering as the warmth made her cold toes tingle.

She had to look very funny. The travel dust still on her clothes, her hair unravelled and wild, but with her feet already in a hot bath. At least that's how Link found her when he knocked on the door a little later to bring her luggage. He smelled of fresh air and stable, a scent Zelda would forever associate with him.

"Good idea," he said, nodding toward the steaming bowl. Then he put his hands on his hips in a waiting gesture and looked around expectantly.

"Is there dinner, too?"

Zelda downcast her eyes to hide her amusement. Sometimes, time seemed not to have passed at all. It was as if he had confessed to her only a week ago, the tips of his ears bright red, that eating was one of his favourite activities.

She rubbed her ankle with the right big toe, the soft gurgle of moving water velvety in her ears.

"Don't worry," she said, clasping her elbows with her hands as she slumped against the back of the chair. "I ordered the food before I asked about the rooms."

Link made a non-committal but satisfied noise. A silent moment passed, during which Zelda enjoyed the increasing warmth of the fire. A little tension slipped from her limbs.

A little longer and she would fall asleep. The thought was the gentle whip she needed to get herself back up a bit.

She still had work to do. "Link," she began, turning to her knight. "Where's-" she broke off as he lifted her bundle from his shoulder without her having uttered the words. That was exactly what she had wanted to ask. She hadn't even noticed that he was already carrying her luggage.

"You mean these?" Without waiting for her answer, Link stepped closer to her chair.

Zelda reached out for the bags, but he immediately pulled them out of her reach. With an exaggeratedly raised index finger, he met her ensuing reproachful expression.

"I'm only giving them to you in exchange for a promise."

Zelda blinked.

"You- What?" she frowned. What was that about now?

Her arms sank back into her lap as he took a token step back.

"We both know what's in here," he said, tilting his head a little, his tone that of an understanding uncle, just sufficiently condescending in his indulgence. Zelda's temper bucked like a high-spirited colt.

"Yes," she began laconically, smiling a quick, sharp smile. Then her eyes narrowed. "My underwear," she hissed. Prompting, she reached out for her luggage again. "Now hand it over!"

Link's ear tips, the only part of him that he couldn't seem to keep under ironclad totalitarian control, colored slightly. It was a sight that always gave Zelda's heart a lovely little nudge. But she fought back the feeling.

Yes, sometimes he was sweet and endearing. Nevertheless, he got on her nerves.

She hadn't been able to stand these bodyguard airs one hundred years ago. And now that his status as her sworn knight was on very shaky ground - they had been skirting the question of whether Zelda even needed one any more for several years now - she had even less patience for it.

But patience was something that came to Link as naturally as breathing.

He scratched his head in a gesture of feigned confusion, unimpressed by the delicate matter of her underwear with which she had tried to throw him off his game. It seemed so theatrical that genuine amusement mingled with the urgent need to punch the hero Hylias on the ears.

"Must be quite a bit of undergarments, as heavy as these things are." Link moved the bags up and down in a deliberative motion with one hand, his expression assessing. Zelda rolled her eyes and rubbed her forehead with a less than ladylike growl.

"And here I thought you had all of our old treasurer's records in here."

Zelda kept her gaze lowered and now for the third time reached her hand toward the pack bag in a prompting manner.

"Just in case those records do turn out to be in here," Link continued, unimpressed, "I should take precautions. Don't you think?"

Jerkily, she raised her head. A grin flitted across his face, as fleeting as the spreading of butterfly wings. One moment it was there, dazzling Zelda with all its mischievous charm. Then it was gone again, hidden behind the ironic display of sternness that did, however, have a purpose.

And she knew Link too well not to know where this was going.

"Give me the bag, Link!" She couldn't find the authoritative serenity she'd learned to speak with, but at least she no longer sounded like a small girl being teased by her big brother.

"I'll give you the first ten pages." The suggestion was so abstruse that Zelda didn't understand at first. Then her eyes grew wide. "Excuse me?"

Something in Link's expression turned mulish. Distinguishing the nuance from his usual stoic expression took years of practice. Practice Zelda had by now. It was rare enough that he looked at her like that, but when it happened, she might as well ask a rock to sing her a song.

She pressed her lips together and thought about her options as they stared at each other.

Before she could even really begin to think, something in Link's gaze changed and his blue eyes lost their hardness.

"You won't be much help to Impa if you can't think straight tomorrow because you're so tired," he said, his tone level-headed, free of the playful note that had coloured his voice before. "You know you'll need all your wits about you."

Zelda knew she was being manipulated. Born marksman that he was, he had spotted her weak spot with the sharpest precision and aimed right for it. But she didn't blame him. He was right.

And an objective part of her being also knew that Link deserved a medal for his ability to wear down the walls of her character with just the right amount of patronizing arrogance, irony, and gentle understanding.

Impressed and annoyed at the same time, she eyed him with a furrowed brow, while a wide variety of voices inside her demanded attention. She was proud of herself because the most reasonable of them finally won.

"Fine," she said, "fifteen pages." She raised her chin. "That's all I'll read. I promise." She tried to look down at him from above, though that was difficult, since she was sitting and he was standing. Very much the princess who didn't owe anyone a promise, but did it anyway, out of kindness.

Link held her gaze for a few seconds, probably seeing through the farce immediately.

But he said nothing in response, instead breaking his stillness so suddenly that Zelda flinched.

He opened one of the bags with such a matter-of-factness that her mouth dropped open for a moment.

That darn knight was actually rummaging through her private belongings.

"Say, what do you allow-" she began, stunned, but he had pulled out the stack of papers and untied the leather cord knotted around them so quickly, that she broke off and watched dumbly as he counted off a few sheets. The rest he tucked under his left arm. Her brazenly opened and now much lighter luggage, he threw unceremoniously on the bed, where it lay, dull and sad.

Zelda had no time to be indignant about the lack of respect for her belongings, because Link covered the distance to her chair with a few steps, waving the counted sheets of paper.

With a satisfied expression, he pressed them into her hand.

Then he bowed formally, while Zelda felt too sluggish to follow what was happening. Like the feeling you got when a cart started too fast and you were thrown around helplessly, victim of the momentum of the movement.

Link was already out the door when she realized the following: she was holding much less than fifteen pages of paper in her hands.

The golden, brave, myth-shrouded hero of Hyrule had ripped her off, impertinently and boldly.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for commenting and kudos-ing :)   
> Have fun with the new chapter.

**Y** es, he was a hypocrite. A sanctimonious one at that.

He was trying to prevent Zelda from spending the whole night reading, something he just knew she would do - and he had done something similar the night before. Not sleeping but staying up searching to those old records in the collapsed parts of the castle.

So he was clearly guilty, should he be accused of double standards. Which Zelda would certainly do the next morning.

Still, Link felt no remorse as he closed the door to his room behind him, only satisfaction.

Smiling, he placed the stack of papers on the small wooden table that stood next to a neatly covered, simple bedstead.

He would have preferred to remove Zelda's opportunity to read the old treasurer's notes altogether. But that would have driven her insane. Either she would have clawed his eyes out or, and this would have been worse, she would not have been able to rest at all.

And after the many hours in the saddle, exposed to wind and rain, with the worry about Impa on her chest, Zelda needed exactly that: rest.

She was allowed to be furious with him about it. It wasn't something he couldn't handle, as long as she wasn't really suffering.

If he was honest, he almost looked forward to it.

At least it distracted her a bit from the burden she was carrying on her shoulders. And if he could enjoy the sight of it, he wouldn't complain. Her cheeks would flush in a shade that made the green of her eyes glow like emerald embers.

It those moments she wasn't the high priestess and princess of Hyrule.

In those moments she was earthy and real and emotional, and he wanted to get burned by the flames of her temper.

And perhaps, the lack of sleep had clouded his brain a bit...

Shaking his head at himself, but with a small grin on his lips, he knelt in front of the brick fireplace and placed one of the prepared logs on the fire already burning there. The person who had lit the fire was certainly responsible also for the hot water that wafted tempting clouds of steam from a pewter mug.

Thoughtfully, he observed the foggy swirl for a few moments from his position on the floor, contemplating his next move. When dinner would be brought, Link could not estimate. He didn't like having to open the door to a maid half-naked.

Briefly, he raised his right arm and tilted his head for a sniff.

And jerked back almost instantly.

Heavens!

Link shivered.

The skipped morning wash was really making itself evident.

Deciding on the spur of the moment, he pulled his tunic and undershirt over the head, and tied his Hair back from his face. For a short basic cleaning the time had to be enough. He could shave in the morning.

Fortunately, he did not tend to grow a strong beard. Unlike his father. Link remembered quite clearly that his old man had competed with a hedgehog every single morning.

He heard his mother's long-faded screech, followed by deep, throaty laughter, when his father rubbed his morning stubble against her. Then his sister's high-pitched giggle.

Link remembered enough by now to miss them.

As always, when he thought of his family, he fell into gloomy brooding.

With dark thoughts, he mechanically rubbed his upper body and had just finished washing off the soap, when he heard footsteps in the hallway and then a knock.

As expected, it was dinner, brought by a young thing with an apron and rosy cheeks. The girl curtsied and smiled shyly as Link gratefully took the tray from her, thanking her in the process.

She glanced around the room with interest before he could shut the door with the toe of his boot.

She probably knew who he was. After all, he knew Nell, who worked as a guard here and certainly wouldn't hide who Link was.

But the Hylians were practical people. They were not prone to glorification and gushing. That's why they had never treated Link with any particular distance or deference, even when suspicions about Link's true identity had been confirmed after the victory over Ganon.

It would be different with Zelda, but except for the inhabitants of the fast-growing village at the castle and their acquaintances and, of course, the leaders of the other villages, none of them knew what she really looked like. They just heard stories and the normal gossip.

However, those with a bit of brains could be trusted to draw the right conclusions, when they saw the hero together with a blonde young woman.

But Link had little worry about this.

Her people were the best protection for Zelda, because no one would bother her unnecessarily.

The light-coloured shirt he had quickly thrown on when there had been the knock on the door, stuck to his back, and he rolled his shoulders to get it off his still-damp skin.

It hadn't been enough time to dry off, but he felt much more comfortable after this brief basic cleansing.

He was used to being alone with himself and his stink, and it had taken time to get back into the habit of regular personal hygiene. After awakening in the Shrine of Resurrection, there had been other priorities. But there was much more civilization required of him now. And that brought some advantages.

For example, regular, well-prepared meals that he didn't have to cook himself.

So Link didn't complain. Admittedly, one really did feel much better when being clean most of the time.

On the tray lured a generously filled and hearty smelling pumpkin, bread with crispy crumbs and enough butter to satisfy even him. There was also a bowl of cooked fruit and a still-corked bottle of what looked very much like cider.

It was plentiful and tasted excellent, the squash mealy and sweet and the meat tender, in a creamy sauce. And when Link had emptied his plate, he made his way purposefully to the kitchen to order another serving.

He awoke to a whimpering. Before his mind had even catalogued the sound, familiar heat flooded his limbs in warning, jolting him upward.

He had flung the blanket aside and had leapt up, not quite realizing the reason why.

His hand reached for the knight's sword leaning beside the bed and his thumb unsheathed the blade as he rushed into the hallway, ready to draw it at any moment.

He had already pushed open the door to Zelda's room when his brain finally caught up with his instincts and he understood his actions.

His blood felt like it was foaming. Hundreds of bees seemed to be buzzing inside his body, every muscle primed for battle.

The feeling was so familiar that Link welcomed it like an old friend. He let it fill him, this helper who had accompanied him through every danger and every fight.

The magical potion that his own blood brewed, that made him awake, sharpening his mind and movements.

The rush of battle that every knight, every warrior knew.

Fine-tuned as his senses were, Link heard every sound, felt every breeze, felt every vibration of the ground.

And there was ... nothing. Nothing but the rattle of the wind on the shutters. Nothing but the sound of his bare feet on the wooden floorboards. Nothing but his own pulse in his ears.

Darkness lay over the room, only the soft glow of the burned down fire casting soft, long shadows.

Link exhaled deeply and relaxed his posture a little. He lowered the sword, which he was still sheathed in leather, in his left hand, so that he could have drawn it immediately with his right.

He listened even more intently, feeling for the instincts he had relearned to follow, in that time shortly after awakening in the Shrine of Resurrection.

Even though they had roused him from his slumber, they were now suddenly completely silent.

Link could therefore come to only one conclusion: there was no acute danger.

Nothing that threatened Zelda from the physical world.

Quietly, he closed the door, which was still open after he rushed in, and took a few steps into the room. Even from a distance, he had been able to see the tense contours of her body under the covers.

This close to her bed, her fitful sleep was even more apparent.

She had curled up on her side like a small animal, both hands clutched so tightly in the sheet that her knuckles gleamed white. Her head had slipped off the plump pillow, fine blond strands of her open hair clinging damply to her forehead and neck, and despite her closed eyes, her face looked haggard.

A tremor ran through her body and again he heard the sound that had awakened him. It brought back memories of pouring rain and burning muscles, of breath catching in his throat, of tears and despair and churning fear.

Link clenched his jaw, bracing himself against the fists of old, deep-seated emotion pounding at him.

It wasn't the first time he'd heard that sound.

"Zelda," he murmured, slowly lowering himself into a crouch, his voice raw and thick with compassion.

Whether she responded to his nearness or remained trapped in her nightmare, Link could not tell.

All he could hear was that she began to sob.

Under delicate lids, her eyes moved quickly and erratically, her whole body tense as a bow.

"It's all right," he murmured as his heart beat painfully against his sternum. "You're safe."

He continued to mumble soothing nonsense in a soft tone. Much like he would do with a frightened horse. Hoping that his voice and presence would reach and calm some part of her sleeping consciousness.

For a moment, that seemed to work, too.

Until finally, with a choked sound in her throat, she winced so violently that the bedstead shook.

"No," she gasped, repeating the word over and over, shaken by broken, sobbing breaths. Naked fear and pure panic. Link could bear it no longer.

He acted suddenly and against all reason. Against everything he had been taught, against everything he had sworn and hammered into himself.

Distance, detachment, respect, all that no longer mattered.

He couldn't stand it. Couldn't watch her being haunted in her dreams, alone and desolate.

Never would he let her suffer. Not when it was pointless and he could change it. No matter what she might think, what she might assume of him. Even with her repulsion he could live, as long as he could keep it off, this shapeless terror that tormented her in the vulnerability of her sleep.

He had already risen without having made the decision to do so, but there was nothing but purposefulness in his movements as he knelt on the bedstead.

In the semi-darkness his hands found her shoulders and with gentle determination he pulled her to him.

One foot still on the ground, the other leg half-bent, he offered a protective wall with his body while new throaty sobs shook her. The sounds sounded raw and painful and each time Link's heart contracted.

He sensed the moment she awoke. The quivering alternation of tension and crying turned into a hard stiffness as she became aware of his presence.

Whether she was frightened by his presence or the sudden awakening left her disoriented and panicked, Link could not say.

Immediately upon noticing the change, he began to form soothing sounds deep in his throat. One hand held her head against his chest, the other was wrapped around her flank. A gentle but limiting embrace that would hopefully not fail to have its effect on a rudimentary level and calm her.

"Shh..." he murmured, "Shh...it's me. It's all good. It's all good. You were just dreaming."

His words made little sense, but they didn't have to.

They had an entirely different purpose. They were meant to soothe Zelda. And him as well. Simply by their sound and pitch.

Her breath warmed the thin linen shirt he wore in damp little gushes. She was so close to him that he could trace every shiver of her body, feel every tremor.

The delicate scent that was so familiar to him, woman and warmth and something that reminded him of milk and honey, surrounded him like a cloud and he noticed his thoughts slowing down.

There was something intoxicating about her proximity, making euphoria rise inside him like bubbling blisters, and dangerous in a way that a sword could never be.

But Link had learned to handle it. Every knight learned that. And it hadn't taken him much time to remember it again.

There were protective walls inside him that no woman, no matter how good she smelled or how good she felt in his arms, could breach.

And it was sorely needed.

For no one had ever come as close to those walls of defences as Zelda.

But this embrace was for her comfort. Only her comfort. No more.

Never more.

What kind of a bastard would he be, if he took advantage of her weakness?

To guard her life, with his eyes, his body, his mind. That's what he had sworn to do.

Before his king, his goddess, his people. Even before his father - the memory of it still gave Link hot ears.

He had knelt before Zelda and stared at the slender hand, feeling every sense of his life focus on this one girl.

Zelda was the focal point of his destiny. Not the sword. Not even Ganon.

Her. Only her.

He lived for her. He would die for her.

He would only ever do what protected her interests, her salvation, her health.

That was the foundation of his whole being. The ropes that held his soul, his body together. Delicate as silk and hard as diamond, soaked in golden light and the scent of milk and honey.

It gave him the strength to steel himself against the reactions of his body.

He could breathe deeply without his senses clouding over. He could hold her without giddy hope splitting his mind.

Could exist beside her and just be happy to protect her.

A few moments passed, the night filled only with Zelda's struggle to breathe as he continued to hold her against him, trying to radiate calm.

To be the haven where she could recover from the storm. The rock in the surf, the safe return home.

The cave in the rain.

The fire in the cold.

Eventually her trembling subsided and her breathing became less frantic.

Only the tension did not leave her body and Link was sure that his closeness was the reason, decency and virtue too powerful cornerstones of her upbringing.

She made a feeble attempt to pull away, then another.

But she either lacked the strength or the real will to do so.

If she really didn't want to be held, she would have let him known.

But he suspected she needed that closeness.

In a state of shock, touches were important. They grounded. They centred. They let the victim feel the confines of their body so they could find their centre again.

Zelda was no exception, no matter how her iron-clad restraint demanded otherwise.

And Link would recognize someone who was in shock even blindly, which was why he had acted without much consideration of the pros and cons.

At that moment, Zelda was scared and probably a little disoriented.

Nightmares messed with the mind and weakened the substance, he knew from his own experience. And Zelda had experienced enough to be haunted by them in her dreams for the rest of her life.

His left hand, which had previously held her head and stroked her hair gently, slid down her neck. Found its way under the heavy mass of golden strands.

Zelda made a refusing sound, but when he touched the heated, damp skin with delicate fingers and began to trace filigree patterns with his fingertips, she shivered and stopped moving.

It was a different, finer tremor that ran through her body. One that had nothing to do with fear, but with well-being.

Link turned his head so that his forehead came to rest on the crown of her head.

"What were you dreaming about?" he finally asked after what felt like an eternity, after he felt her body become more supple and soft, the tension leaving her limbs.

He felt her shake her head. The movement faint and languid.

Link hummed softly in acknowledgement. She didn't need to talk about it. As long as she could forget the images.

"Try to go back to sleep," he murmured against her hair. "I'm here."

He felt her exhale shakily. She sank deeper into his arms and Link clasped her even tighter. Her own hands, previously clawed into his shirt as if she couldn't quite decide whether to hold him or push him away, loosened and slid down along his torso. Under the thin fabric, his abdominal muscles tensed reflexively as the delicate touch tickled his skin.

He closed his eyes and concentrated on his breathing. Conjured images of walls and raw steel, the anchors he had learned to sink into the bottom of his mind when he needed to discipline himself.

Most of the time, it came easily to him.

But sometimes it didn't.

He blamed it on the fact that he wasn't used to being around her any more. Perhaps he had not yet recovered from the shock his body had suffered when she had so suddenly thrown her arms around his neck that morning. He hoped that he had not yet reached the point where he would have to visit Klahra. Then he would have a problem.

Thinking of Klahra while holding Zelda almost made him ache with shame, and he gritted his teeth. Let his mind go blank.

One of her hands remained on his left hip, slowed by the angular top of his pelvic bone, the other one half-opened on his thigh like a small starfish.

Link tried to ignore where she touched him. Her hands were somehow more difficult to block out than the softly curved contour of her body.

Which was odd, since that nestled against his entire front.

Perhaps it was because this sensation was somewhat familiar to him. It was nothing new to him how perfectly their shapes fit together. But her hands on his body ... well, that was a very new experience.

"Sorry," she breathed in an occupied voice, "I-"

"Shh," Link interrupted her, "try to sleep, Zelda."

It took her a moment to respond. Perhaps she was trying to gather some strength for rebuttal.

If that was the case, she gave up pretty quickly.

A barely perceptible sigh lifted her chest. As close as she was to him, he felt every breath she took, along his front.

"Thank you," she finally whispered. Her breathing had become quiet, her aura that of one deeply exhausted.

Link felt a small smile tug at his lips.

How he would have loved to answer her.

_Everything for you._

_You only have to ask for it._

But the words remained unsaid, he only briefly tightened his grip in a silent reply that he knew Zelda interpreted correctly.

Namely, that no gratitude was necessary.

But he appreciated it nonetheless.

Despite her exhaustion, it took Zelda a long time to fall back asleep.

It almost seemed to him that she was fighting fatigue. Understandable, if the images from her dreams had been gruesome.

Link did not ask her about it again. Nor did he address her about this pointless struggle against her body's needs, even though a few hours earlier he had put up with her anger so that she could get that all-important sleep.

Now, however, it seemed more important not to keep her unnecessarily awake by his questions.

Monotony eventually put any resisting mind to sleep. He knew that from his own experience. It was the challenge of guards to remain constantly alert for any possible danger despite the apparent calm, even if ninety percent of the time nothing out of the ordinary was happening.

But eventually her hand twitched on his hip. Then the one on his thigh.

Then she made the sweetest sound he'd ever heard. A hiccup that was paired with a nasal, snorting inhale, and Link had to bite his lip to keep from making an amused noise.

After that, her breathing became deep and even.

He didn't know how long he remained like that, half-sitting on the bed, Zelda in his arms.

Time didn't really matter, the situation seemed far too unreal for him to trust his senses.

Thoughts came and flew away again, because he couldn't hold any of them for long. Nor did he want to. Only this moment counted. In the twilight between waking and dreaming, in the darkness of the night, far away from all obligations.

As the black became more diffuse, creeping into the room through the window, and the horizon slowly became visible outside, Link slowly stirred.

Except for a few deep breathing sounds and the normal twitching muscle movements that all sleepers make, Zelda had slept quietly. It testified to her deep exhaustion, whether that came from her nightmares, the exertion of the day, or the too many short nights.

She had slept and that was all that mattered.

Carefully, with movements that resembled a lizard in winter, Link withdrew his arms. Slowly, he lowered Zelda's body, guided her shoulder to the mattress, and positioned her arms under the wool blanket.

He listened for any stirring, but except for humming sighs that made his lips twitch, she remained unaffected by the change in position.

For a little while longer Link remained in a waiting position at her bedside, listening to her breathing and feeling his leg, which had gone numb a few hours ago, awaken with a painful tingling. He welcomed the sensation, it was the cold shower he needed to shake off the spell that this night had woven around him.

His mind was completely clear. With absolute certainty he knew how to assess and classify this exceptional situation.

Zelda had needed comfort and protection. He had been only too happy to provide both.

It was only his heart that had difficulties with what he had experienced and with pushing it aside again now and accepting the uniqueness.

Link felt his jaw tighten. Immediately he calmed his breathing and tried to free himself from the feelings, as he had learned to do.

He had only meagre success.

With one last look at her sleeping, lovely face, he turned away and left the room. In his own chamber he found the leftover water that had been hot the night before.

He poured the used wash water into the chamber pot, which he used before stretching the waxed cloth over the porcelain bowl again.

From the fresh, now delightfully cold water, he scooped up large hands and splashed it over his face, neck and chest after pulling his shirt over his head.

The cold was a blessing, not only invigorating, but sharpening his senses and his mind. It made it easier for him to dispel the fog that still tried to envelop his mind.

The familiar moves of the male shaving ritual additionally helped him re-enter himself.

And even if the cold water did not soften the stubble as well as warm water would have done, he was presentable again at the end of the procedure.

A flawless knight of Hyrule.

Well, maybe not quite flawless, considering all the scars.

But at least he was not missing an arm. The many potions he had learned to brew, the fairies, and above all Mipha's prayer had saved him from such injuries.

He usually did not miss the gifts of the warriors, whose spirits had provided him with for the fight against Ganon. But to live without Mipha's healing power, that had required a bit of adjustment. So had the ability to create an updraught, which Revali had surprisingly shared with Link. That had been pretty handy.

But since the warriors had found peace with their victory over Ganon, their souls had disappeared from Hyrule, and with them any seed of their spirits.

It had been a bit of a shock to find out.

Link spent some more time struggling through the records of the former treasurer of Hyrule, as he tried to read the pages he had taken from Zelda. But it was like he was gliding through the papers with a fishing net. Hardly anything stuck in his head.

Maybe it was lack of sleep, but there was no point in closing his eyes now. It was more likely anyway, that the text was just too complicated for him.

So he ran a coarse toothed horn comb through his tangled hair and tied it back. Slipped on his boots and tunic and tied on the sword belt, remembering that the weapon must still be in Zelda's room. He hadn't thought to take it back with him when he left the chamber.

He made do with a short Gerudo knife, which he wouldn't need anyway. But Link just liked to be prepared. And that had saved his neck often enough.

His bag was quickly tied to his belt and then he made his way downstairs. Even though it was still early in the morning, someone would already have to be awake, stoking the kitchen fire.

There was only one thing that helped against lack of sleep, he had learned in his time after awakening in the Shrine of Resurrection, since there had never been time for enough sleep back then. And that was a huge breakfast.

~ mit Feuer gemalt


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for all the support and feedback. This is really helping me!

**Z** elda's right ear was twitching. Either her neck had taken a draft somewhere in the last few hours or, and this was more likely, the noise level was hurting her hearing.

It was loud.

Very loud.

Not exactly what she would have expected to find on a sickbed.

Ever since she had set foot in Impa's house, Zelda had been trying to regain her composure.

She had been greeted with the words, "I'm not dead yet. So you can spare yourself that scowl!"

Illness? Age? Weakness?

Not in this house.

Above all, it was strange to have to talk to a mountain of blankets.

A mountain of blankets that shook frequently and from which barking sounds emanated - the only physical indication of an abnormal state of health, if one disregarded the slight nasal tone with which the head of the Shiekah loudly argued with her granddaughter.

Zelda had briefly tried to estimate how many blankets had been piled on top of Impa, but then gave up when she lost track at a count of ten. After all, that had to be a mistake.

In any case, Impa’s outline was no longer visible.

In this house, a threshold had clearly been crossed. That of reasonableness.

No wonder Impa was in an unusual unpleasant mood.

Zelda cleared her throat and opened her mouth, but in time Impah began a new tirade and her own words were cut off like overlong hedge branches.

"By Hylia and her sacred hair, I wouldn't even be begging that madwoman in Hateno for her torture technology if I were really dying." The mountain of blankets vibrated violently.

"But I'm not dying! If you don't realize that, I will expel you from this room."

Beside Zelda, Paya emitted a hiss. The serpentine sound so completely incongruous with the delicate nature of the otherwise quiet young woman that Zelda looked at her in bewilderment.

"You are old, grandmother. _Old!_ That makes even sneezing dangerous!" Paya's voice was as harsh as Impa's was nasal.

"The only thing dangerous around here is you and your health dictatorship. Get away from me! You know I make good on all my threats!"

Again, Paya made that hissing sound. Zelda gave her a worried look. Maybe she had caught whatever was ailing Impa?

Considering the situation, Paya actually seemed to overreact just a tiny a bit. Impa was showing definite symptoms of illness, but was obviously suffering from the treatment rather than the illness itself.

And that huge mountain of blankets was certainly more oppressive than healing.

"Ehm-," Zelda tried to interrupt the two squabblers - not for the first time since she had arrived, but then flinched back when Paya turned her head to her, eyes flashing.

"Do you understand now why you had to come here? She has completely lost her mind. Her people need her and she couldn't care less."

That didn't seem quite fair to Zelda. To Impa, the Shiekah always came first.

"Where's Link, princess?" barked Impa angrily. "Get him over here! Apparently my granddaughter needs to be shut up."

"Grandmother!"

Zelda shook her head. Impa's attempt to involve Link in the battle between grandmother and granddaughter loosened the last clamps of tactful restraint in Zelda. Using him as a shield against Paya, even if only in theoretical deterrence, was pretty mean.

That she managed to blanch and get splotchy red at the same time spoke volumes about Paya's feelings for Link. A fact that pricked Zelda more than it should have.

Still, she felt her temper flare.

"You're acting like children, both of you. And I should know, because I'm an expert on the subject." With these words she stepped onto the battlefield of the family feud and gave the indignant looking Paya and the snorting mountain of blankets an authoritative look.

"You are unjust, and both of your behaviour is shamefully disrespectful."

Zelda's words had a greater effect on Paya, who then had enough decency to look guilty. Impa, on the other hand, snorted even more impressively, considering her stuffy nose, but remained mercifully silent.

Able to speak for the first time, and not having to follow the dizzyingly fast-delivered attacks the two highest-ranking Shiekah had been throwing at each other since their arrival, Zelda took a deep breath.

"I demand a serious assessment of your health, Impa." Before either could say anything, Zelda raised her voice. "That is why I will speak with your healer. You two are as trustworthy as... as a fox in a hen house."

Not one of her best comparisons. But it did what it was supposed to.

All three women filled the room with there breathing. For a moment, nothing more happened. It was bliss.

"Yeah yeah, I get it," Impa finally said with a growl in her voice. Or maybe it was just a sign of hoarseness.

"Paya, get Esla!"

Zelda recognized the name of the village herbalist. A quiet, wise woman who didn't speak much but had extraordinary powers of observation.

"But-," Paya began with a new note of resistance in her voice.

"Do you wish to disobey an order from the princess?"

Before Zelda could correct that this was not a direct order, but rather a brashly presented request, Paya had narrowly bowed to her and left the room.

As gentle as she was, there was no denying her Shiekah roots. Paya was as nimble as a bunny and as quiet as a mouse. A bit surprised, Zelda stared at the door.

"Heavens, that took ages." The pile of stacked blankets wobbled, accompanied by an impatient sound from Impa, drawing Zelda's attention back.

"I was beginning to think I was going to suffocate under here." Impa groaned and the blankets swayed. One of them landed on the floor. Then another.

Zelda watched the spectacle, shaking her head. She began to loosen her left riding glove from her fingers as she stepped closer to the low bed Impa was lying on.

Impa had freed herself so far from her cosy prison that her small form was now visible under the last remaining layers.

"You have no idea ... how ... she ....is..aah," Impa gasped, freeing herself from a thick, fluffy comforter. "getting on my nerves"

Relieved, Impa inhaled, resting her head on a low pillow. Her brown eyes, still the old ones in her age-riddled face, focused on Zelda with an unusual glint.

Without the large hat or elaborate hairstyle she had always worn in the past, Impa's head seemed unaccustomedly tiny, further emphasizing the fragile impression Zelda had been so startled by when she had seen the familiar friend again after all these years.

"She is just not giving me any peace. You can't even have a little cold without her spreading doom and gloom."

Zelda sighed and came close enough to the bed to look Impa directly in the eye.

A smile captured the thin lips, driving away the anger and making way for the velvety expression that was so familiar to Zelda that her chest tightened painfully.

"Princess, I'm glad you came to see me."

Zelda pocketed her riding gloves and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Impa," she began softly. "What are you doing?"

*** ***** ***

Unfazed, Link stared at the door through which Zelda had disappeared into Impa's hall.

He couldn't take his eyes off it, even though several minutes must have passed already.

She had wanted get out of his presence as fast as possible, very nearly tripping on the stairs doing so.

And even though he made every effort to push the feeling aside, inside him remained a stinging sensation that all logic and emotional discipline couldn't quite erase.

Throughout the day she had been silent and withdrawn, her manner dismissive and cool. It was clear that she did not want to talk about what had happened during the night.

He would have preferred the anger he originally had been expecting for withholding the treasurer's notes from her. But that had been before her nightmare tore the night apart.

The silence was a challenge.

He would have to talk to her.

About knowing his place and just being the shoulder she could lean on, find comfort in.

It wasn't easy to find the right amount of closeness. Obviously, Zelda needed more of it than he had previously suspected. But how much good did it, when he gave her exactly what she needed, if afterwards it made her so uncomfortable that she couldn't even look at him?

The fateful, archetypal parable: one step forward and two steps back again.

He should have dealt with it differently from the beginning, talked about it much earlier.

His assumption that time would settle the matter on its own had not been confirmed.

Rather, the situation had worsened.

Link assumed that the worry about Impa and the additional burden of the plans for the future tax system were weighing on Zelda and were therefore at least partly responsible for her mood today. But that alone could not explain her reclusiveness.

She had been almost like the Zelda Link knew only from hazy memories. A dismissive, brusque girl who had sometimes even seemed condescending.

That was the image that had caught up with him after he had first woken in the Shrine of Resurrection. When the first memories came and confused him more than they helped.

For he had not been able to unite this image with the gentle, light voice that had been his sun and guide. The radiance in the darkness. So bright and pure that it hurt to look at it too long, but with an attraction stronger than any intoxicant.

Zelda.

She had been the only thing that had made sense.

_Legend says that an ancient voice resonates inside the sword. Can you hear it? - Leave me alone, do you hear? Go away! Leave me alone! Stop following me!_

How the incoming memories had confused him.

Link shook off the thought.

He had understood quickly. Driven by confusion and drawn by golden light and bitter sweet longing, he had found the keys that unlocked the hidden memories in his mind. And bit by bit he had understood.

He had seen loneliness and suffering.

A sense of duty as big as the Mount Lanayru and despite her being royalty almost no freedom for herself.

Anger. Powerlessness.

Frustration. Fear.

Innocence. Sweetness. Kindness.

With each memory, the golden light, the lovely voice had become more colourful. More fascinating. More alluring.

He had fallen for her even before he had freed all the Devine Beasts.

Link was not attached to the past. That was hardly possible, as little as he knew of it.

But what little he knew did not fill him with horror or bitterness.

It was in the past and could not be changed.

At that moment, though, he caught himself wishing he did know better.

With a barely audible sigh, he turned away and set about taking care of the horses. In this area they were free to roam and join the wild herds of the Shiekah if they wished. They were closely guarded by the well-camouflaged warriors and protected from the few dangers that still existed since the monster activity had returned to normal.

Link deposited the luggage and saddles on the wooden platform in front of the village store for the time being, then turned to the Shiekah guards positioned at the foot of the stairs leading up to Impa's hall.

They had discreetly ignored him so far, only respectfully greeting Zelda as she ascended the stairs, passing them.

Now, as Link focused his attention on them, one of the two turned to face him.

With his goatee, he looked just as he had five years ago when Link had first seen him in this very spot, with a serious expression and gaunt face. The only thing that had changed was the man at his side.

Dorian had been the second guard. And he was hopefully busy briefing the new recruits at this point.

"How is Impa?" asked Link after a brief greeting.

Cado shrugged his shoulders.

"She's coughing." Another shoulder shrug. Except for his pets, little could elicit a strong sentiment from Cado.

"Our herbalist checks on her almost every hour. Yet she looks unconcerned."

Before Link could say anything in reply, Cado spoke on.

"But she looked unconcerned with Dafna, too." A dark look under bushy eyebrows met Link's eyes. "And now she's dead."

Link blinked as he strained to place the name.

"A wolf tore her," the other Shiekah guardian spoke up, deliberately indifferent. Link had seen him before, but did not know his name. He was slightly shorter than Cado and much younger. His beardless face seemed set in stone, with bright eyes that never failed to take in the surroundings.

Without a trace of expression, he turned his gaze briefly to Link and explained, "Dafna is a chicken."

Ah. That explained things. Link's shoulders relaxed a little.

"She was a chicken." Cado's voice was filled with sadness. "One of the best."

The other guard snorted.

Link hurried to turn the focus to another subject.

"Please, tell me what I need to know."

The new guard who had taken Dorian's place next to Cado understood immediately.

Without taking his rapidly darting gaze from his surroundings, he summarized the most important events.

Link learned that Impa was indeed sick, but no one but Paya was particularly concerned about it. In addition, there had been no Yiga sightings in recent weeks.

Link was grateful for this information, especially since the Shiekah owed him no answers. Here he was nothing more than the princess's guard, held in honour but still a minor figure.

It was a pleasant change.

"We have prepared a cottage for the princess," Cado's partner finally finished and then assumed posture, a sign that he had reached the end of his report.

Link nodded his thanks.

"Good."

"Divaa." This came from Cado, who had not joined the conversation, but was simply staring into the air with a dark face

.Link looked at him in irritation.

"What?"

"Divaa," Cado repeated, and his face took on a melancholy expression.

"That means nothing to me," Link said slowly, after an explanation from Cado failed to materialize.

"With her, the herbalist didn't look worried either."

The second guard, who until now had been the embodiment of rigid devotion for duty, gave Cado a heated look, but remained silent his lips puckered with impatience.

"And now she is dead, too," said Cado.

A short pause passed.

"Divaa was as old as a rock. Counting in the years of a Shiekah, the damn chicken was two thousand years old," thundered the second guard.

Cado's expression shuttered.

"I'm just saying."

The other Shiekah rolled his eyes and then turned away in a grand gesture, at which point Link noticed that he continued to have a good view of the surroundings.

A good choice for a guard. With an introspective smile, Link left the two to their duty.

The late noon faded into a sunny afternoon filled with a sense of languor.

Link spent some time watching Koko cook and enjoyed stretching his legs out in front of him. Idleness was rare in his life, and accordingly he appreciated these few moments of peace that came his way. The tranquil, familiar sounds of village life composed a relaxing song to which he gladly surrendered.

As the shadows lengthened and the other work was done, the young Shiekah warriors began their exercises. Zelda hadn't reappeared since she went into Impa's house, and it wasn't long before they included Link in the practice battles.

Without hesitation, he accepted the invitation. He didn't often have the opportunity to test his technique on equal opponents to see if it was up to date.

He chose one of the Kodachi shortswords that some of the Shiekah used against the spears used by the others - they had not been blunted for the purpose of practice, the Shiekah did not do things by halves - and faced his opponents. His vision sharpened and his blood began to sing. Then the world became clear as crystal and time no longer mattered.

*** ****** ***

Relieved for several reasons, Zelda left Impa's chamber.

Impa was not as bad off as Paya's fearful letter had suggested.

For that matter, Zelda should have been more open-minded about Link's thought processes from the beginning.

But she was still glad to have come here.

Nevertheless, Zelda was happy to leave the house.

She had never seen Impa in such a bad mood. Actually, she had never seen Impa in a bad mood.

Accordingly, she had never before come in contact with Impa's ability to transfer her mood to the surroundings like an invisible force, almost literally causing the air nearby to smoke.

Zelda shivered as she crossed the wooden floor of the meeting hall.

She felt guilty for leaving Impa alone. But she had asked her to. Not to say, Zelda couldn't have felt more thoroughly kicked out of the room if Impa would have actually kicked her.

Still, perhaps she should ...

Zelda paused as she heard the clang of swords, and her thoughts, circling around Impa, drifted apart like wisps of mist in a gust of wind.

It had to be coming from outside, because the great hall of Impa's house was empty and silent.

The sounds of battle no longer caused Zelda to break out in cold sweat, as they had in the beginning, shortly after Ganon's downfall.

But a certain restlessness filled her nevertheless when she opened the door to the outside.

Dusk had set in, but the square in front of the pond housing the goddess statue was so brightly lit that hardly any shadows could form.

Fires and torches burned, illuminating what was happening in the square.

Zelda paused, spellbound by the sight.

The Shiekah were a people of researchers. But also a people of fighters.

A strange union of predispositions that Zelda nonetheless felt connected to by her own researcher's heart, which beat for the one soldier she stared at in awe from her elevated position.

She hadn't seen him fight in a long time. Not really. Not like this.

It was a jolt that stole the breath from her chest. She could hear her own pulse beating in her ears, feel it in the back of her knees and in her temples.

The powerful elegance with which he moved seemed out of this world.

He was made for battle with the Shiekah, whose rapt, almost mystical techniques accentuated his special physique.

The naturalness of his movements seemed effortless and unforced. As if the explosive jumps and dizzying turns were no more strenuous than an afternoon walk. As if the flowing sequences of pounding blows were not instruments of death, but beauty, bound by strength and sword.

He seemed ... happy. Even from a distance, she could see his extraordinary eyes shining.

Zelda watched the evidence of camaraderie and brotherhood. Saw them pausing and correcting each other. The high-fives and gestures of respect.

Heard the exchange of good-natured insults, the universal language of male bonding.

Did it remind him of the knights he had trained with?

Did he miss that time?

She had never asked him about it, even before the Calamity. He had been appointed her personal knight so abruptly, after excelling over and over again in defending against the hordes of monsters that overran Hyrule in threatening anticipation of Ganon's return.

Or at least tried to.

And after that ... after the Calamity, every question about his life had seemed like a dagger. A painful reminder of what he had lost. What she had lost.

She pressed her lips together.

Zelda saw him fend off a doppelgänger created by secret techniques of the ancient Shiekah, getting himself out of the way of flying kunais with a backward leap that he turned into a spin, then pausing in a waiting stance.

His breathing didn't even seem to have quickened.

A new wave of strange weakness rolled over Zelda, an attraction so strong that her legs wanted to move against her conscious will.

There.

To him.

It was the moment he looked up.

Their eyes met, just as they had hundreds of times before.

It was nothing new that the air in her lungs dissolved and drifted away. It was nothing new that her chest felt tight, filled to the point of bursting with an ache that hurt and felt unthinkably good at the same time.

It was also nothing new that the sight of him soothed something deep, primal inside her. Satisfied a longing that was always calling out.

None of this was new. And as always, it filled Zelda with dread.

It was getting too strong.

The feelings became too strong.

Too strong to feel, too strong to bear.

How was she supposed to keep it a secret? How was she supposed to hide from the most observant, perceptive, empathetic man who existed that she was unstoppably, irrevocably, indestructibly, intangibly, impossibly in love with him?

~ mit Feuer gemalt


End file.
